


houseparty

by princessofthebugs



Series: The Party Scene [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is sexy, Alcohol, Bokuto is a himbo sweetheart, Confessions, First Kisses, Getting Together, I am obsessed with Akaashi and Kenma, I spend way too much time talking about everyones eyes, Kenma and Akaashi SMOKING WEED AHH, Kenma isn't as smart as he thinks he is, Kuroo is a simp, M/M, Mutual Pining, Party Fic, Truth or Dare, Tsukishima is Bad At Emotions, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofthebugs/pseuds/princessofthebugs
Summary: One spring night, Saeko throws a party for the boys of Karasuno as well as some members of Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Aoba Johsai to celebrate the end of the school year and the third-years' graduation. Lots of stuff happens during this party.Each part (hopefully) tells the event of the night from one character's POV. Saeko features intermittently as a sort of omnipotent narrator. This story is corny and entirely self-indulgent.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: The Party Scene [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064894
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	1. Kenma

**Author's Note:**

> Please lmk if you enjoyed :) This was so fun to write

**SAEKO**

It was a temperate March night, and to celebrate the third years’ graduation, Saeko and Ryu were hosting a small-kickback-turned-huge-party. It wasn’t Saeko’s fault that the gathering got big, though. Seriously. One minute she was at the corner store buying limes, because according to Suga no party was complete without proper tequila shots, and she found herself agreeing with him. The next minute she was standing outside her house, gaping at the small crowd that had formed outside her front door. She squinted, making out a vaguely familiar head of gray spiky hair.

“Is that Fukurodani’s ace? No fucking way. I know my little brother did not break his promise to only invite Karasuno. He wouldn’t do that.” She mumbled to herself. But even as she said it, she felt a smile threatening to break out on her face. God, she was a sucker for a good party. She tried her best to be a mature, responsible older sister to Ryu, but she could never resist fun. In any form. 

So, she stalked forward to where the group of boys were banging uselessly on her front door. “Excuse me, boys.” She raised the plastic bag from the corner store above her head and waded through the bodies, smelling teenage boy sweat and cheap cologne. Wrinkling her nose slightly, she turned to face them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight pairs of eyes in varying states of sobriety stared back at her. Clearly, some of them had pre-gamed the event. “Listen up. I told Ryu not to invite so many people - “ She heard whispering from some of the boys in the back, hushed whispers exclaiming, _is that Tanaka-san’s sister? She’s hot!_ Grinning at them, she continued. “But who am I to turn away a group of such handsome devils. I’ll let you in, but if you throw up on my fucking carpet, nobody will ever find your dead body. Shoes off at the entrance, of course.” 

She turned and unlocked the door, stepping inside and heading toward the kitchen. Placing the plastic bag on the counter and pulling out the limes, she set straight to work preparing the tequila shots. If she was going to manage to make tonight a good time, she’d have to be tipsy enough to forget that literally every single person in her house was underage. _Maybe Akiteru will show up…_ she thought wistfully, and then smashed that thought down just as soon as it popped up. Regardless of how hot she found Tsukishima Akiteru, she wouldn’t hook up with him in front of his little brother. She could at least be that tactful. 

Especially not when she’d been noticing that cute freckled pinch server, Yamaguchi Tadashi, sneaking furtive glances at the younger Tsukishima. She wouldn’t want Kei to see her all over Akiteru and get all pinchy-faced and uptight and ruin Tadashi’s chances at getting a drunk smooch out of him. No, she would let them have their fun. Maybe, if she got bored enough, she could text Akiteru to meet her at the park. Maybe.

The lime juice dribbled off the side of the cutting board as she sliced the fruit quickly and evenly. She spun, grabbing the salt and shot glasses out of the cupboard. Balancing everything on one arm, she headed out into the main room, where all of Karasuno, the eight newcomers, and some stragglers she hadn’t noticed come in were milling around. _Boring_ , she thought to herself. _These kids need to loosen the fuck up. God, when I was their age I was already a total stoner. How lame._

“HEY HEY HEY! My sweet children! Gather around, Saeko nee-san is gonna teach everyone how to do tequila shots.” Hinata yelped excitedly from where he was sitting with the other first years in the corner, and came rushing toward her. “Me first! Me first!” He hopped up and down in front of her, waving his arms enthusiastically and nearly knocking her over in the process.

“Stop moving, dumbass. You’re so annoying.” Kageyama glared down at his on-court partner. Saeko smirked inwardly, noting that despite the difference in their enthusiasm, they had both beelined over to her the moment she mentioned alcohol. 

“Shut up, Bakageyama! She’s gonna show us how to get a shot!”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes and loomed over Hinata. “It’s ‘take a shot,’ Hinata. If you’re going to be so embarrassingly excited you should at least sound less stupid doing it.” 

“Tsukki, be nice.” Yamaguchi poked the tall blond in the arm. Saeko smiled at the small touch. _Puppy love_ , she thought to herself. _Ah, those were the days._

“Okay, Everyone sit.” There was a scramble as more than half the room rushed to claim a seat on the floor in front of Saeko. The third years remained standing at the outskirts, most of them having already taken shots before in their lives. Saeko noticed that Daichi and Suga were talking quietly to each other on the far side of the room, completely engrossed in their conversation and each other. She could’ve sworn Daichi was seeing Michimiya Yui, a friend of hers from elementary school, but the way Daichi was flushing at Suga’s soft laugh told her she must’ve been mistaken. God, was everyone on this whole fucking team gay?

Not that she could talk. She was an equal-opportunity sort of woman. 

“Hinata, you’re going to help me with this demonstration. Come up here.” The redhead nearly broke his nose as he slipped in his hurry to reach her side. He smiled eagerly up at her, reminding her of a baby bird. Saeko wasn’t that tall, but he had earned the nickname chibi-chan for good reason. She shook her head fondly, and ruffled his hair. “Okay. So you’re gonna hold the shot glass in one hand,” she placed the full glass into his waiting palm, and he folded his fingers around it to hold it steady. “And on the other hand, right here between your thumb and the rest of your hand, I’m gonna put a tiny bit of salt.” She sprinkled a small pile of salt onto his skin, and he held his whole arm stiff so as to not jostle it. 

“I’ll hold the tray of limes. What you’re gonna do is take the shot, sort of throw it back into your throat and swallow it quick, and then right away, you’re gonna lick the salt off your hand. Right after, as fast as you can, grab a lime slice and bite right into it. Got it?”

He nodded unsurely. “Think so.” 

“Okay, my young samurai. Go for it.” Hinata took a deep breath, steeling himself, and tossed the shot down into his throat. His eyes bulged, and Saeko gestured urgently at his other hand and the limes. He licked the salt, and then lunged forward to grab a lime. Sticking it in his mouth, he sucked, and his eyes streamed from the combination of shocking flavors. She heard whooping from the back of the room, and looked up to see the gray-haired kid from earlier jumping up and cheering. “WAY TO GO HINATA!” 

“Thanks, Bokuto-san!” Ah, so it was indeed the Fukurodani ace. She should’ve known her goal of keeping this gathering limited to Karasuno was an impossible one.

Saeko shifted her gaze slightly, and saw Kageyama’s eyes lingering on the trail of spit running down the corner of Hinata’s mouth. His eyes were dark. _Another one?_ She thought disbelievingly. _They must be drinking Gay-torade between matches_ , and snorted at her own silent pun. Hinata eyed her oddly, so she hurriedly praised him, “Great job, kid! A little more fluid next time, maybe. Who’s next?”

To her surprise, Yamaguchi stepped forward. “I’ll go. It doesn’t look so bad.” Tsukishima turned to stare at him as though he’d suddenly grown horns. “What?” Yamaguchi asked defensively, “I want to have fun, Tsukki! You should do one too!”

Saeko laughed, “You’re all gonna have to do a bit more than take one single shot to feel something tonight, but he’s right that it’s a start. Let’s go, Yamaguchi!” She smiled encouragingly at him, hoping that he’d be able to lower his inhibitions enough tonight to make something happen with his clearly-constipated best friend and crush. He leaned forward, accepting the shot and salt, and did the whole thing in one smooth move. _Impressive_ , thought Saeko. Kid’s got moves, after all. 

The rest of the boys took their shots easily, after that. Once everyone had at least one drink in their system, Saeko went to go grab her speaker from upstairs. 

**KENMA**

Kenma stared down into his cup, wishing he could teleport away from this party. He hated parties, and Kuroo fucking knew that. But he had still begged Kenma to come with him until he felt like an ass for refusing. “Kenma, I’m graduating! Soon I won’t be around to annoy you anymore, and you’ll wish I were still here to force you to do shit. Please come, just this once, for me,” he had said, and Kenma had taken one look at his best friend’s pleading eyes, eyes that were only soft for him, and given in. 

Still. If Kuroo truly cared about Kenma, he wouldn’t force him to come to this stupid party, and he certainly wouldn’t abandon him within fifteen minutes of their arrival. Now all he had to keep him company was this cup of pinkish, unidentified liquid, and a knot of anxiety in his chest. Hinata was here, but he was staring at Kageyama with a bright, hopeful expression, and Kenma knew better than to interfere. If only Kuroo were as considerate of his feelings as Kenma was of Hinata’s. Ugh.

He backed up till he was securely in a corner, and then slid down the wall, pulling his DS out of his pocket. If he was going to be stuck here, then he was going to distract himself so that the noise level of his surroundings faded from grating to merely annoying. A speaker somewhere in the house was playing old Ke$ha and he was miserable. _Stupid Kuroo_ , he thought. Something in his stomach twisted, and he wished so hard that he wasn’t alone in this corner. 

The wall was cold against his back. It wasn’t very comfortable, either. He’d give anything to be leaning against Kuroo’s chest, feeling his reassuring heartbeat against his back. The most comforting place in the world was perched on Kuroo’s lap, caged between his arms, protected from the rest of the world. But lately, Kuroo’s lap had become a source of stress rather than of comfort. Kenma hated it. For the last month or so, every time he sat there, Kuroo would tense up and carefully avoid touching Kenma in any way that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Kenma didn’t have any idea why, and he didn’t allow himself to guess, fearful of what his mind might come up with. 

Kuroo was his best friend, and his anchor in this loud, overwhelming world. But he was graduating soon, leaving Kenma behind to fend for himself in his last year of high school at Nekoma. _Maybe that was why_ , Kenma thought. _Maybe he knows I’m too dependent on him, and it makes him uncomfortable and worried I won’t be able to cope when he’s gone_. As much as Kenma was loath to admit it out loud, if that was truly Kuroo’s thought process, he wasn’t too far off. Kenma didn’t know how he was gonna get through school without Kuroo’s stable presence at his side.

But he did know that pushing him away now wouldn’t do either of them any good. 

Forty minutes later, he had lost himself in his video game. But his concentration was broken when he heard Kuroo’s familiar laugh filter in from the direction of the kitchen. Kenma furrowed his brow, and cursed Kuroo under his breath. Shoving his DS back into his pocket, he tilted his head back until it hit the wall behind him. He raised his red solo cup to eye level, and glared at it. He was sick of this corner, sick of being by himself and being anxious. He had heard from Kuroo many times that alcohol was supposed to make you feel loose and happy, less nervous. Might as well try. Not like the night could get much worse.

He braced himself, and pulled some of the contents of the cup into his mouth. Grimacing at the taste, he waited until the initial bitterness faded. It wasn’t actually that bad, seemingly some combination of red fruit punch and tequila, if the bottles he had glimpsed in the kitchen earlier were any indication. He screwed his eyes shut and downed the rest of it in a few pained gulps. Taking a deep breath to rid himself of the nausea that bubbled up briefly, he stood shakily and made to move toward the kitchen. 

Once in the doorway, he leaned against the doorframe, scanning the space for the source of that familiar laugh from earlier. His eyes landed on a crown of gray spikes. _Bokuto-san_. If Kuroo ever ditched Kenma, it was either for him, or for Karasuno’s Tsukishima. Since the blond middle blocker was nowhere in sight, Kenma began to head toward Bokuto. He wasn’t in a rush; however much he wanted to find Kuroo, Bokuto always made him anxious. He was just so loud.

As expected, the moment he spotted Kenma approaching, Bokuto exclaimed, “KENMAAAAA! When did you get here?” His arm was slung around Akaashi’s shoulder, who gave Kenma a slight smile and nod in greeting. Akaashi was way easier to be around than Bokuto, but was almost never found without his rambunctious counterpart.

“I came with Kuro, actually. I was hoping to find him again, I thought he’d be with you.” At that, Kuroo’s head popped up from behind the counter, a bottle of ...something in his right hand. “Kenma! Wanna take a shot with me?” Kenma sighed, remembering the taste of alcohol from a few moments ago. He decided it wasn’t as bad as the rejected expression Kuroo would make if he turned him down, so he nodded. “Sure.”

“OYA! Bokuto, Akaashi, you guys want in?”

“Bro! Of course! Akaashi, please take a shot with us?” Bokuto turned wide eyes to his teammate. Kenma watched, unconvinced that the reserved setter would indulge with them. To his surprise, Akaashi shrugged, and Bokuto hooted happily. “SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS!” Kenma and Akaashi simultaneously cringed at his volume, and Akaashi shot Kenma a helplessly apologetic look. Before Kenma could react more, Kuroo shoved a overly full shot glass into his hand. “Bottoms up!” 

After they were all spluttering and wiping their mouths on the backs of their hands, Kenma whirled to face Kuroo. “That did NOT taste like the other drink you gave me earlier, Kuro. That was so much worse.” 

“That’s because I gave you a mixed drink and we just did a shot.” Kenma wrinkled his nose, and Kuroo laughed at his expression. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.” He scooted closer to Kenma, pressing their sides together good-naturedly.

Kenma felt himself growing warm. Must be the alcohol, he told himself. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the way he could feel Kuroo’s hand brushing his own where they dangled between them. He looked up to see Kuroo grinning down at him. “One more?”

“Are you crazy?” 

“Maybe. Bokuto, one more?”

“YESS!” Bokuto fist pumped and jostled Akaashi, who interjected, “Kuroo, isn’t that gonna be a bit much?” 

“Nahh. It’ll be everyone’s, what, third drink? All good. Plus, I got a little something for later that’ll offset the alcohol a bit.” Kenma blinked . _A little something?_ He hadn’t the faintest clue what Kuroo could possibly be talking about. Meeting Kuroo’s eyes, he raised an eyebrow slightly at him, a question implied in the movement. Kuroo just winked and raised a finger to his lips. A secret, then. Huh.

“Alright, if you say so.” Akaashi agreed, and Bokuto squirmed excitedly next to him. “Just one more.” Kuroo refilled everyone’s shot glasses, and then began to count down from three. “Three, two, one, SHOT!”

Kenma tipped the foul liquid down his throat, shivering at the feeling for the third time that night. He closed his eyes firmly, allowed it to settle in his stomach, and felt slightly woozy when he reopened them. He grabbed onto Kuroo’s sleeve. “Whoa, kitten. You good?” Kenma blushed at the nickname, but didn’t correct him. 

“Fine. But Kuro,” He turned, and tugged again at his friend’s shirt to get his attention more firmly on him. “Don’t leave me again for the rest of the night. Or I’m going home.”

“Well, we can’t have that. I’ll stick with you, Kenma. Sorry for ditching you.”

“It’s okay, but don’t do it again.” He gave Kuroo a small smile, and loosened his hold on his sleeve.

“Let’s play Smash!” Bokuto fist pumped again, clearly feeling the party atmosphere. “Just until we start to feel the alcohol a little more.” Kenma nodded. Even if he always trounced everyone far too easily, playing Smash was comfortable and simple. Just what he needed right now. Noticing Kenma’s reaction, Kuro grabbed his hand and Bokuto’s shoulder and began to pull the whole group to the TV room.

Akaashi immediately went to the console and began syncing the controllers. He handed a blue one to Bokuto, a hot pink one to Kuroo, and a mint green one to Kenma. _Wow, if he has this controller, Tanaka must have the limited edition Animal Crossing themed Switch_ , Kenma realized. He didn’t know Karasuno’s wing spiker was such a nerd. 

Soon, the familiar Nintendo Smash theme song began to play, setting Kenma’s nerves at ease. He watched as Kirby stood at the edge of the huge cliff, plunging his little pink arm into the air proudly on the screen. Kenma clicked A, and the image fell away. On the character selection screen, he picked Hero. Kenma’s first main in Smash had been Inkling, but Hero was more fun, with all of his complex special moves. 

Kuroo, predictably, picked Byleth. He had been favoring the character ever since Kenma introduced him to the absolute masterpiece that was Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Bokuto chose King Dedede, and Akaashi selected Villager. They chose to play as a team against four level 9 CPUs, and as the match began, Kenma felt his body calming down.

All thoughts of Kuroo abandoning him faded away as he bit his lip, his concentration fully on beating Ridley, the annoying fucker. He was so focused that he almost didn’t notice Kuro’s eyes on him, watching his fingers move deftly across the green controller. “Kuro, pay attention,” he chastised, tutting as Byleth fell ungracefully off the map. “Sorry, sorry.” Kenma looked sideways at him, the jut of his chin, the shadows under his eyes, and his ever-present bedhead. He felt something warm swelling in his chest. 

The momentary distraction was enough for Ridley to sweep him off the screen. “Damn,” he said under his breath, and Bokuto elbowed him at his other side. “C’mon, Kenma! You gotta be on your game or we’ll lose!”

In response, Kenma pressed a button on his controller, causing Hero to detonate a huge bomb that promptly killed all the remaining CPUs. “You were saying?” Bokuto crowed with laughter and slapped Kenma on the back, causing him to lurch forward slightly. The sudden movement made his head spin slightly. 

They played a few more matches before Akaashi asked, “Is anyone feeling the alcohol yet?” 

“YUP!” Bokuto nearly yelled. Kenma winced, and replied, “Yeah, I think so. I’m a little bit dizzy.”

“Time for the surprise I was telling you about. Let’s go out back.” Kuroo rose, tugging Kenma up with him. Kenma flailed slightly, but Kuroo’s hand quickly moved to the small of his back, righting him. “You good?”

“Fine.” Kuroo’s hand on his back was warm through his t-shirt. Kenma chose to ignore the way the contact made his stomach flip. Balance regained, he stepped forward to follow Bokuto and Akaashi.

They crossed the house to the sliding door that led to the patio. Kuroo sat down heavily on the wooden stairs, Bokuto sliding in next to him. He patted the spot next to him, indicating for Akaashi to sit. Kenma gingerly crept around them, and perched nervously on the lower stair between Kuroo’s long legs. He turned to gauge his best friend’s reaction, and was quietly happy to see that he seemed comfortable with his proximity. 

Kenma relaxed slightly after a moment, leaning some of his body weight onto Kuroo’s right leg. He felt a touch on his neck; Kuroo had absentmindedly placed his hand at his nape as he snickered about something with Bokuto. The gesture wasn’t anything new, their lifelong friendship rendered casual touch altogether normal between them, but Kuroo’s recent distance from Kenma made it seem special. He tilted his head into Kuroo’s hand, feeling his grip tighten slightly. “Kuro,” he tapped on his chest. “What’s the surprise?”

Akaashi hummed, expressing his interest as well. Kuroo grinned, one of his toothy, scary, Cheshire Cat smiles, and pulled something out of his back pocket. He held up a small, paper-looking tube sort of thing, and Kenma, Akaashi, and Bokuto all squinted at it. “Bro, what is that?” Bokuto asked.

“It’s a joint!” Akaashi whispered, expression knowing. “Kuroo, that’s illegal.” 

“Yeah, so is underage drinking, and last I checked none of us are 20 yet.”

Realization hit Kenma. “That’s weed.” 

“HOLY SHIT! Kuroo, this is the coolest! Look at us, we’re such badasses! Akaashi, we HAVE to smoke it. Right now!” Bokuto burst out.

“Only if we all agree to it." Kuroo looked pointedly at Kenma and Akaashi. Kenma sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He looked over at Akaashi, who looked back at him with the same, long-suffering, unsure expression. When Akaashi nodded, Kenma wasn’t sure how he felt. Everything he knew about weed came from American movies like Pineapple Express, and he didn’t know how accurate those were. “What’s it going to do to us?” He asked warily.

“It’ll take the edge off the alcohol, make us feel chill, and probably hungry.”

“That’s it? You promise?” Kuroo said nothing, but held out his pinky finger. An age-old Kuroo-and-Kenma tradition, the pinky promise was the most sacred of commitments. Kenma wrapped his own pinky around Kuroo, and met his eyes with a small smile. “Okay.”

“YOSHAA!” 

“Bokuto-san. Too loud.”

“Sorry, Akaash.”

Kuroo produced a lighter from his other pocket, and held it to the end of the joint. It sparked briefly, and then began to smolder slowly. He lifted it to his lips, inhaling slowly, and Kenma averted his gaze. Something about the way Kuroo’s eyes fluttered closed as he sucked in the smoke felt weirdly intimate. Kuroo exhaled with a throaty cough, and hit his own chest with a fist. “Jeez. Be careful, Bo,” he warned, passing the joint.

Bokuto held the joint with both hands, and made a ridiculous “o” face as he took a hit. He coughed once, less violently than Kuroo, and handed the thing to Akaashi. Kenma watched closely, figuring Akaashi would be the best one off of whom to model his own approach. Pinching the joint between his thumb and forefinger, Akaashi raised it to his lips, pursing them delicately as he sucked in audibly. He released the smoke gently, and it settled around them. “Whoa, ‘Kaashi. When did you get so cool?”

Akaashi blushed, “I’m not, Bokuto-san. But I’ve watched some Youtube videos about this. I’ve actually always wanted to try it.” Bokuto beamed at him, and Kenma rolled his eyes. Akaashi did make it look easy, but Bokuto was such a fanboy.

“Here, Kenma,” Akaashi said as he extended the joint to him. Kenma took it, pinched between two fingers like he had seen Akaashi do. He stared at the glowing end for half a second before cautiously placing it onto his mouth and pulling the smoke into his lungs. Tipping his head back, he blew the smoke into the inky night sky. He lowered his gaze to see Kuroo staring at him, mouth slightly open. “What? Did I do it wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just. You looked good. Doing that.” Kenma’s eyes widened, and he felt his palms get just a tiny bit sweaty.

“Damn, Kenma. You and Akaashi should be models, you’re both so pretty. Especially when you smoke. Like weed models.” Blushing, Akaashi lightly hit Bokuto in the shoulder. “I don’t think that’s a thing, Bokuto-san.”

“But it should be! Because you guys would be famous.” Kenma kept his eyes on Kuroo, who laughed uncomfortably. “Right, Kuroo?”

“Totally. Pass that back here, Kenma.” Obligingly, Kenma returned the joint to its owner. They continued passing it in a circle, until it was too small to hold, burned all the way down to the filter. By the end, Kenma’s chest felt light, but his eyelids felt heavy. He smacked his lips, noticing that they were dry. “Kuro. Water?”

“How about another drink instead? Let’s get absolutely fucking crossed tonight. In the name of graduation, or whatever.” Bokuto’s eyes turned solemn, and he grabbed Akaashi’s wrist. “Akaashi, please let us get absolutely fucking crossed. I’m gonna miss you so much. Let’s drink the pain away!”

“Bokuto-san…”

“PLEASE, Akaashi. After tomorrow I’m gonna cry for like, ten years. Let’s just have this one night of fun.” Perhaps because of the weed, it didn’t even seem like that terrible of an idea to Kenma. It made sense. One last night together, might as well go all out. “I say let’s do it.”

“Wow, really Kenma? AWESOME! Akaashi, now you HAVE to say yes.” Kenma felt a little bad for all the peer pressure being directed at Akaashi, but he was also hoping Akaashi would give in. Everything felt so _nice_ right now, and he was so happy to be surrounded by his friends. He wanted to keep his state of non-sobriety, and having another drink seemed like a surefire way to make that happen. So, he was happy when Akaashi finally said, “Alright. But just one more. Then we’re done for the night.”

“DEAL!” 

Bokuto jerked up, almost face-planting in his hurry to get back into the house. “Wait! Wait a second,” Kuroo called to him. Bokuto spun around, eyes hazy, listening to Kuroo. “We might smell like weed. Akaashi, check Bokuto. Make sure he doesn’t smell like a drug dealer.” Kuroo turned toward Kenma, hooking a finger in his shirt and pulling him toward him with a determined expression on his face. Kenma held his breath as Kuroo tilted his head down to sniff under Kenma’s chin. He could feel the tip of Kuroo’s nose graze his throat, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. “All good, you smell normal,” Kuroo murmured, and drew back up to Kenma’s eye level.

Kenma’s exhale caught in his throat. Kuroo was so close, barely an inch away, so close that Kenma could count all of his eyelashes. _Eyes… he’s always had such kind eyes…._ Kenma thought distractedly. He was pretty sure Kuroo wasn’t breathing either, because he didn’t feel anything rush across his face. His eyes flickered down to Kuroo’s mouth, for a reason he couldn’t explain. When he looked back up, Kuroo’s eyes were focused on _his_ mouth. _What the fuck is happening right now_ , Kenma thought in a daze. All of the sudden, Kuroo seemed to shake himself, and dropped his finger from Kenma’s shirt. He climbed the steps two at a time, and brushed past Akaashi and Bokuto to step into the house. 

Bokuto followed him, but Akaashi lingered, waiting for Kenma. Seeing Kenma’s bewildered expression, he asked, “What was that? Did something happen?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. It was probably just in my head. Weed, huh?”

“Mmmm.” 

Kenma dried his palms on his jeans and smacked his lips again. He wanted that drink, so he followed Akaashi to the kitchen. Bokuto was sitting on the counter, legs swinging, while Kuroo was mixing a concoction in four new red solo cups. “No more shots, guys. Kuroo says we’re done with shots.” 

“Smart. Shots are gross.” Akaashi replied. Kenma eyed the cups suspiciously, aware that they had the potential to contain much more than a single shot’s worth of alcohol. Still, he took the cup that Kuroo handed to him, and immediately raised it to his lips to try it. Over the red rim, he could see Kuroo watching him, waiting for a reaction. He lowered the cup, saying, “S’good.” Kuroo’s face loosened visibly. It really was a pretty good drink, mostly because it didn’t taste like alcohol at all.

“Wow, Kuroo-san, are you sure there’s anything in this?” Akaashi inquired, face skeptical. “It just tastes like strawberry.”

“I mixed strawberry Calpico with vodka. Sounds gross, but the Calpico neutralizes the harshness of the alcohol.” _He’s such a nerd_ , Kenma thought fondly. Kuroo’s greatest love aside from volleyball was chemistry, and had been since he began forcing Kenma to make playground concoctions with him in fourth grade. 

Kenma turned to see Bokuto absolutely chugging his drink. “Whoa! Bo, it might taste good, but there’s plenty of alcohol in there!” 

“Make me another!”

“Absolutely not. Akaashi, deal with him.” Setting his cup down, Akaashi placed his hands on either side of Bokuto’s face and shook him slightly, eyes narrowed. “Bokuto-san. If you drink more you’ll throw up, and if you throw up you won't be sleeping anywhere near me.” At that, Bokuto’s face became grave, and he saluted wordlessly. Akaashi nodded, apparently satisfied with that response. Kenma shook his head; he would never understand their dynamic. Akaashi seemed more like an affectionate, exasperated sensei than Bokuto’s kouhai. Whatever, it was none of his business. 

Kenma took another sip from his drink, savoring the strawberry taste. It had been his favorite flavor of Calpico for as long as he could remember. Kuroo’s favorite was lychee. Kenma wondered why he had picked strawberry instead of his own preference. Maybe it was the weed, but the Calpico was even better than usual. He swirled it around in his mouth, until he noticed Kuroo watching him. He blushed and swallowed it in a hurry, causing a tiny bit to slip out the corner of his lip and drip down his chin.

Before he could wipe it away, Kuroo was in front of him, thumb swiping under his lip to catch the errant liquid. He lifted the finger to his own mouth and sucked it clean. Kenma’s jaw dropped. Was he high, or was that super weird? _And attractive_ , his brain supplied unhelpfully. _Shut up,_ he told his brain. “What, Kenma?” Akaashi was looking at him with a confused expression.

 _Shit, did I say that out loud?_ God, he actually was high. Or crossed. Something. “Sorry, talking to myself.” Kuroo snorted, and Kenma glared at him. At that moment, Far East Movement’s “Like a G6” began playing on the speaker that had been blasting 2000s party hits all night. “Holy shit, I love this song,” Kuroo said reverently, and began poking Bokuto’s shoulder. “Bo, let’s go dance!”

“HELL yeah! I’m gonna show you my best moves!”

Kenma hated dancing, and he wasn’t a huge fan of the song, either. But the prospect of Bokuto showing off his “best moves” was pretty entertaining, so he let himself be pulled along by Akaashi in the direction of the music. 

The main room was packed with bodies from wall to wall. _When did all these people get here?_ Kenma wondered. He scanned the room for recognizable faces, and spotted a gleeful and definitely wasted Saeko pouring rum directly into Hinata’s mouth. The orange-haired boy’s face was red and sweaty, and he looked to be having the time of his life. Kageyama was behind him, standing a little too close and watching transfixed as the amber liquid cascaded from the tip of Saeko’s bottle to Hinata’s lips. There was something there, Kenma knew. He had noticed it when Hinata first introduced him to Kageyama, because the second that the word “setter” came out of Hinata’s mouth, Kageyama’s eyes had narrowed with obvious jealousy. He was territorial over Hinata as his spiker, and even if he hadn’t figured it out yet, there was a very fine line between possessiveness on the court and possessiveness in day to day life. Considering Kageyama’s dark expression right now, he was crossing that line, whether he realized it or not.

Part of Kenma was jealous, too. Not of Hinata, or even of Kageyama, but of the obvious connection between them. Hinata relied on Kageyama, just like Kenma relied on Kuroo, but the difference was that Kageyama was just as dependent on Hinata. Sadly, Kenma was pretty sure that Kuroo needed him just about as much as Kenma needed Lev. Which is to say, not at all. Kuroo was so solid and strong, he never needed anyone. 

He just wished that Kuroo would look at him the way Kageyama was watching Hinata, his expression full of _mine_. Kenma didn’t want to be anyone’s property, but he’d appreciate feeling like Kuroo would miss him just as much as he was going to miss Kuroo. And if he had to belong to someone, he wouldn’t mind it being Kuroo.

But Kuroo was ten steps away from him, dancing with Bokuto, instead of behind Kenma like Kageyama was behind Hinata. He was always ten steps away, in some metaphorical sense. He never failed to be there for Kenma when it was most important, but Kenma wanted him there _all the time_ , not just when he was falling apart. And he had already broken his earlier promise to not leave Kenma alone again for the rest of the night. Clearly, he didn’t care all that much about him. Definitely not like how Kageyama cared about Hinata.

Akaashi’s touch drew Kenma out of his depressing thoughts. “Hey, I know neither of us are really into dancing. But I’m seriously drunk right now, and this is a seriously good song. So I’m gonna go,” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the mass of dancing boys. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

Kenma considered, assessing his level of inebriation. _Maybe if I get just a little more drunk_ , he thought. Emboldened by the idea, he chugged the rest of his Calpico-and-vodka. He crumpled the red solo cup and dropped it onto the already-littered floor. “I’ll come.”

“Seriously? Guess we’re both being extroverts for the night.” 

Kenma’s head swirled, and he leaned on Akaashi to steady himself. “I think that last drink got me good. I honestly have no inhibitions right now.” Turning his face to look directly at Akaashi, he found he was completely serious. Usually, he’d be overwhelmed by the noise and the press of bodies, but he felt surprisingly steady. Well, he felt loopy and happy, maybe not physically steady, but emotionally. He wasn’t anxious, and he was sick of overthinking stuff with Kuroo. He could let loose for once. “Let’s dance, ‘Kaashi!” He slurred slightly, and Akaashi beamed back at him, a rare full grin dancing across his face. 

They sort of lean-walked forward together into the crowd. By now, “This Is What You Came For” by Rihanna and Calvin Harris was playing, and Kenma loved this song. It had always secretly made him feel like he wanted to dance, just a little bit. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, feeling his hair fall across his sweaty forehead. Seemingly of their own accord, his hips began to move slightly, and he heard Akaashi laugh.

Kenma reopened his eyes, and his vision swam slightly. The music seemed to seep into his skin, making everything feel surreal and intoxicating. Time slowed, and he maintained eye contact with Akaashi as he raised his arms above his head and gave into his impulses. He had never done anything like this before, he was always quiet and restrained, nose in a video game to block out the world. But in this moment, with the bass thumping under his feet and Akaashi’s bright eyes meeting his, it felt right to allow himself to dance.

The song continued and Kenma felt so alive. All of the physical sensations he felt were dulled, making way for strong, happy emotions that felt like they were bursting out of his chest. He felt so lucky to be here with his friends, even if Kuroo was confusing. Everything was okay, the world felt just a little bit magical, and he was here, rolling his hips in time to the beat. He laughed, copying Akaashi from thirty seconds ago, and some sober part of him was amazed at his complete lack of self-consciousness. 

Rihanna’s voice gave way to Usher, and he turned his body, coming face to face with Yamaguchi Tadashi. “Hi, Yamaguchi,” he said loudly over the music, smiling at Hinata’s friend. 

“Kenma! Isn’t this great? I’ve had like five shots, I feel like a new person!”

“I know, right? It’s so weird. I hate parties normally, but I had no idea alcohol could do this.” He leaned in to speak directly into Yamaguchi’s ear conspiratorially. “I also smoked weed earlier.”

“Oh my god! You’re so cool! I’ve never done that before.” Yamaguchi’s eyes were wide and unfocused, his mouth open in an easy grin. “How was it?”

“I can’t really tell what I’m feeling from the drinks and what’s from the weed, but I guess it’s nice.” 

“Lucky. If you smoke again, tell me. I’ll come with you.” Kenma stuck his thumb in the air in front of his face as an affirmative. He felt hands on his waist, and twisted his head to make sure Akaashi was still behind him.

Gunmetal blue eyes looked back at him, and Akaashi yelled, “You stopped dancing with me!” Kenma mouthed a _sorry_ , and leaned his shoulders back on Akaashi to resume their dancing. Akaashi made a pleased sound in his ear, and kept his hands at his hips. As they moved to the music, their bodies moved together, and Kenma felt like he was in a movie. 

_So dance, dance, like it’s the last, last night of your life,_ sang Usher. Kenma nodded drunkenly in agreement with the lyrics, and decided that he wanted to feel like this forever.

Swinging his gaze to his left where Bokuto and Kuroo had been dancing earlier, he saw Lev doing some ridiculous disco move over and over again, completely off beat. Lev’s awkwardness made him feel even more confident and he slung his hips further back into Akaashi. He heard an intake of breath at his neck, and Akaashi’s fingers tightened their grip on him. _Am I grinding on him?_ He wondered, and then concluded that if he was, he was okay with it as long as Akaashi was. He trusted Akaashi second most after Kuroo, and he was sure it wouldn’t be awkward later. It was just for the party, and anyways, Akaashi was drunk too.

He felt one of Akaashi’s hands leave his waist and tap the side of his face, directing his gaze slightly to the right of Lev. There, Kenma saw Bokuto and Kuroo, who had strangely both moved slightly back toward the wall and stopped dancing. Even more oddly, they were both openly staring at Kenma and Akaashi, mouths open like fish. _They’re watching us dance_ , Kenma realized, and somehow didn’t feel embarrassed at all.  
  
He grabbed Akaashi’s hand to restore it to his hip, and closed his eyes. They lost themselves in the music for a few more songs, and Kenma felt powerful knowing Kuroo’s eyes were on him. He wondered if Akaashi minded that Bokuto was watching as well. He guessed not, or they’d have stopped by now. Kenma opened one eye, and sure enough, Bokuto and Kuroo were still watching, but Akaashi’s movements hadn’t slowed at all. 

Suddenly, the volume of the music lowered, and Sugawara Koushi was yelling, “HEY! Everyone shut up I have an announcement! For any of you drunk bitches who want to come, we’re gonna play Truth or Dare outside. Don’t come if you’re gonna be a pussy, though.” He glared challengingly into the crowd. “Okay, that’s all! Go to the patio if you wanna play. The rest of you can continue twerking your skinny asses off!”

The music restarted, and Kenma swiveled to discuss with Akaashi. “Do you want to go play? I bet Hinata and Kageyama will kiss or something and I kind of want to see it happen. Hinata’s gonna turn SO red.” Akaashi giggled uncharacteristically, the skin of his face flushed and sticky. “Sure. Are you sure, though? Because we have to participate if we go, and Suga said we can’t be pussies.”

Kenma scoffed. “I’m absolutely trashed right now, I think I’d make out with Yamamoto if someone told me to.” He hadn’t ever kissed anyone before, but it didn’t seem to matter in the present moment. Akaashi laughed again, and turned to make his way toward the patio once more. 

They somehow made it through the back door in one piece, stumbling against each other the whole way. Akaashi plopped down heavily on the wooden slats of the patio deck, where there were several other people already seated in a wonky circle. Kenma scanned the circle, seeing, among others, Hinata, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, Suga, Tanaka, Oikawa, and… Kuroo and Bokuto. Of course. They never turned down any sort of mischief. 

Seeing as there wasn’t a lot of space left in the lopsided circle, Kenma stepped between Akaashi’s legs and jostled them open so there was a space between his propped up knees. He knelt down and scooted between them, leaning back against Akaashi’s chest. He had never sat like this with anyone besides Kuroo, but Akaashi laced his hands over Kenma’s chest and he felt warm and safe. Akaashi was his favorite person of the night, he declared internally. 

He glanced up across the circle, and saw that Kuroo’s eyes were locked on Akaashi’s hands as they rested on Kenma. His eyebrows were knitted together, and he looked unhappy. Kenma couldn’t possibly imagine what his deal was. If Kenma could chill out and have a good night with Akaashi, what was Kuroo’s problem with doing the same with Bokuto? He seemed to have made it clear that that was what he wanted.

Shrugging the problem out of his mind, Kenma focused on Suga’s voice, which had begun speaking a moment prior. “Here’s the deal. I’ll start, and pick someone. They can choose between a truth or a dare. If they choose truth, I get to ask any question I want, and they have to answer it truthfully. If they choose dare, I get to dare them to do anything, and they have to do it. No exceptions!” He smiled evilly and clapped his hands together. “Okay! I choose….Tanaka! Truth or dare?” Suga’s eyes were wide and innocent, but his cruel smirk betrayed his devious intentions to expose absolutely everyone tonight at any cost.

Tanaka puffed his chest up and beat it with a fist. “Dare! Do your worst, Suga.”

Rubbing his chin, Suga pretended to be thinking hard for a good dare. Kenma was sure he already had one in mind. Karasuno’s setter might have looked like he was all pretty and soft, but Kenma knew better. Sugawara Koushi was a devil. He finally opened his mouth, and said slowly, “I dare you to call Kiyoko, right now, and tell her you have a small dick.”

Tanaka paled, turning white as a sheet. “Suga, no, please, have mercy, please I’ll do anything else, don’t make me call Shimizu-senpai, please Suga I’ll buy you anything you want, ple-”

Oikawa cut him off with a shouted, “No pussies, remember? Come on, get your phone out.” Tanaka’s face positively crumpled, and Kenma hid a snicker behind his hand. He could feel Akaashi shaking with laughter behind him. Tanaka’s crush on Karasuno’s beautiful, quiet manager was notorious.

Tanaka’s bottom lip quivered as he pulled his cellphone from the front pocket of his jeans. He shot pathetic, pleading eyes at Suga, silently begging for an out. Suga shook his head firmly, and gestured for him to dial the number. Tanaka took a deep breath, and then, digit by digit, slowly dialed Kiyoko’s number. “Show us when it’s ringing so we know you really called her,” Suga commanded. 

Still pale as a ghost, Tanaka flipped his phone so that it faced the rest of the circle. Sure enough, the contact name “Shimizu Kiyoko <3” flashed across the screen. A tinny voice emanated from the device, indicating that she had picked up right away. Tanaka hurriedly raised the phone to his right ear, saying in a shaky voice, “H-hello, Kiyoko-san. How are you tonight?” 

Kenma couldn’t hear Kiyoko’s response, but he noticed that Tanaka’s face reddened slightly at whatever she said. “Ah, that’s good. Sorry for bothering you. I just, um, have something to tell you.”

Another beat of silence, as the whole group waited with bated breath. 

“So. I would first like to apologize for what I am about to say. And give you permission to hit me next time you see me. No, no, I didn’t hurt Yachi-chan. Just listen, and again, I am so, so, sorry.”

He took another deep, steadying breath, and then squeezed his eyes shut. Then, so fast Kenma could barely make out his words, he rattled out, “Ijustwantedtoletyou knowthatIhaveasmalldick!” He wrenched the phone away from his face and urgently jabbed the red “end call” icon. Immediately, he hid his face in hands and moaned pathetically. Yamaguchi rubbed his back comfortingly.

Everyone burst out laughing, including Kenma. He felt bad for Tanaka, but it really was a brilliant dare. Suga interrupted the laughter, and pronounced loudly, “Great job, Tanaka!” He paused to cackle for a second, then continued, “You can choose who goes next.”

Tanaka lifted his face from his hands and pointed across the circle to Oikawa. “YOU! Truth or dare!” 

Oikawa giggled, and proudly declared, “Truth. I’m an open book!”

By the look on Tanaka’s face, Kenma could tell that he was quite determined to make this game just as awful for Oikawa as it had been for him. He turned to Suga, and asked, “Am I allowed to consult with other people to come up with my question?”

Suga hummed, considering. “Sure. You may consult with one other person, but only one.” Tanaka leaned forward to fall onto his hands, and crawled across the circle to a light brown-haired boy that Kenma vaguely recognized as being another member of the Aoba Johsai team. “Hanamaki! Help me come up with a good question that’ll destroy Oikawa.”

Hanamaki smirked, and there was confidence on his face. He put his hand up to Tanaka’s ear, and lifted his mouth to whisper something into his ear. Kenma watched as Tanaka’s face split into a grin, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Oikawa!” He shouted, without looking backward at the setter.

Oikawa raised his eyebrows, but appeared mostly undaunted. “Lay it on me.”

“Are you in love with someone?”

To Kenma’s shock, Oikawa just smiled. “I am.”

“WHO?”

Oikawa wagged a finger. “Nuh uh, baldie. That wasn’t part of the question.” 

“Tanaka, you IDIOT! What kind of incomplete question was that? You completely set him up to give a boring answer!” Suga screeched. Tanaka looked half cowed and half pissed. “This is my first time playing this game! Plus, it’s fine, because whoever picks Oikawa next can just ask the second half of the question.”

Tutting, Oikawa’s smile grew wider. “I’ll just pick dare next time.” Suga reached forward and flicked Tanaka on the forehead. “Way to go, dumbass. Fine. Oikawa, pick the next person.”

In a sickly sweet voice, Oikawa cooed, “Tobio-chan! Truth or dare.” Kageyama frowned darkly, and he ground out, “Dare.” 

“I dare you to sit on the lap of whoever you’d most like to kiss in this circle. Or have them sit on your lap.” Oikawa looked far too pleased with himself for that one, Kenma thought. It was obvious who Kageyama would choose. 

Kenma’s prediction was proved correct when Kageyama, without turning to face him, pulled Hinata away from where he had been seated next to him and into his lap. Hinata squawked, turned bright red, but was otherwise silent. Kageyama’s face was a similar shade of crimson, but his arms encircled tightly around Hinata’s ribcage and he set his chin resolutely atop orange hair. Without waiting to be prompted, he muttered, “Bokuto-san. Truth or dare.”

Bokuto’s face lit up, and he instantly yelled, “DARE!” Kageyama dipped his head down to speak into Hinata’s ear, who nodded. Kenma wondered what Hinata could possibly contribute to a dare for Bokuto, but he waited to see what Kageyama would say. “Bokuto-san, I dare you to compliment whoever you think is the best-looking here.” 

“Oh, that’s easy. Akaashi, you look beautiful tonight. But you look beautiful all the time. Kageyama, that was boring. Can I have a different dare?”

Judging by how white Akaashi’s knuckles had just turned and how tense his chest had become behind Kenma, he was distinctly more fazed by the dare than Bokuto was. He stuttered out, “T-thank you, Bokuto-san!” and bowed his head in his direction. 

Before Bokuto could reply, or receive a new dare, Suga interjected. “No new dare, moving on. Pick someone, Bokuto!” 

Bokuto stopped smiling dorkily at Akaashi to pout in Suga’s direction, and then said, “Freckles! You’ve been too quiet. Yamaguchi, right?” Yamaguchi gulped and nodded shakily.

“Okay! Truth or dare?”

“...Dare.” 

“WOW! Unexpected balls from Freckles! I like you!.” Bokuto clapped excitedly, before realizing that he knew absolutely nothing about Yamaguchi. He faced the larger circle and asked, “Who here knows Yamaguchi well enough to give me a good dare for him?” 

Hinata’s hand shot up from where he was perched on Kageyama’s lap. “Me! I do, Bokuto-san!” Kenma winced. Hinata completely lacked any sort of filter. He was probably about to be extremely cruel, albeit inadvertently, to his poor friend. Bokuto scooted over to Hinata, who whispered for a long moment into his waiting ear.

Bokuto listened attentively, face concentrated. Once Hinata pulled away, he pointed finger guns at Yamaguchi, who cowered. Kenma seriously felt bad for him. “Freckles, I dare you to tell Tsukishima that you have a crush on me!” Yamaguchi blanched. _Holy shit_ , Kenma thought. _Tsukishima is going to fucking flip._ He recalled how Bokuto had befriended the tall blond at the summer training camp, and also how Tsukishima eyes tended to follow Yamaguchi everywhere. He was totally in love with Yamaguchi, and hearing that he supposedly had a crush on his new friend would, well, _crush_ him.

But Tsukishima was so stoic and sarcastic, Kenma doubted he’d react in a way that made his feelings for Yamaguchi clear. He’d probably just get pissed and say awful things that he didn’t mean. _Good luck, Yamaguchi_. 

Yamaguchi turned a stricken, betrayed face to Hinata, who just grinned idiotically. _Hinata probably thinks he’s helping him by putting him in a position where Tsukishima will be clearly jealous, but he doesn’t realize how oblivious Yamaguchi is that Tsukishima likes him,_ Kenma thought. _He’ll just think he hates him and Bokuto._ This was probably the worst dare of the night, he concluded. At least so far.

Groaning softly, Yamaguchi got to his feet. “Guess I’ll go find Tsukki, then.” He said sadly.

“I’m right here.” The group collectively gasped, and eleven heads turned to see Tsukishima standing in the doorway to the patio, face shrouded by shadows. Yamaguchi whimpered audibly, then said in a high-pitched, pained voice, “Tsukki! Hi! I have something to tell you.” 

Tsukishima lifted an eyebrow, and stepped forward into the yellow patio light. “Okay?”

Yamaguchi swallowed, and said to his feet, “I have a crush on Bokuto.” He looked up to scan Tsukishima’s face, which had turned to stone at his words. Kenma hissed through his teeth.  
  
“Great. He’s loud and ugly, but I don’t see why I’d care. Hope you find happiness.” And with that, he pivoted and re-entered the house, shoulders raised tensely. 

A silence fell over the group, broken a few seconds later by Bokuto’s cry of, “He said I’m ugly!” Kuroo patted his shoulder soothingly and shushed him. “Yamaguchi, are you okay?” He asked kindly.

“I lied to him! I don’t have a crush on Bokuto! I’ve never lied to him before!” Yamaguchi wailed. “He knew I was lying! He’s so mad at me, he hates liars so much!”

Oikawa cleared his throat. “Freckles-chan, I don’t think that’s quite why he’s mad. Maybe you should go talk to him?”

Yamaguchi sniffed loudly, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “What do you mean? He hates being lied to!” 

To Kenma’s surprise, Kageyama spoke up. “Yamaguchi, he doesn’t know you lied. He’s mad because he thinks you’re serious. Just go talk to him.” Blinking in confusion, Yamaguchi slowly rose to his feet. “I guess, if you guys say so,” he said unsurely. 

It was Suga who now exclaimed, “Yes! We’re sure. Hinata was trying to HELP you. You’ll understand why if you go talk to him! Now get a move on!” Yamaguchi nodded dumbly and scampered through the door, presumably in pursuit of Tsukishima.

Kenma was relieved to see him go, because the tension had gotten to be a bit much, but he also hadn’t yet chosen the next victim before he left. Suga seemed to realize this at the same time, and said, “I’ll choose who’s next since he’s gone. Kuroo! O captain of Nekoma. Truth or dare.” 

Kuroo shrugged nonchalantly. “Either. I’m not scared of anything and I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Suga turned to Oikawa, who winked at him. Kenma felt his heart stop, but he wasn’t sure why. He shifted uncomfortably between Akaashi’s legs. Suga smiled innocently before opening his mouth to utter, “Kuroo, I dare you to kiss Kenma.”

Kenma heard a rushing in his ears. When he had told Akaashi earlier that he’d make out with anyone, he meant anyone EXCEPT for Kuroo. He stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the way Kuroo’s face showed him to be going rapidly through the five stages of grief. _Am I really that repulsive…_ Kenma thought, hurt by Kuroo’s clear apprehension. He didn’t want to kiss Kuroo, either, but not because he was ugly. 

He didn’t want to kiss Kuroo like _this._

Ever since they were little kids, playing video games and tossing the volleyball around, Kenma had been aware that the way he felt about Kuroo wasn’t the same way people were supposed to feel about their best friends. He never let himself acknowledge the feeling, burying it deep in the recesses of his mind. He was sure that Kuroo didn’t feel anywhere near the same way. He didn’t feel electricity when he touched Kenma the way Kenma did, or else he wouldn’t touch Kenma so much. He didn’t want Kenma closer, didn’t stare at the planes of his face as they slept in the same bed, wishing for _something, anything._

Kuroo was terrible at hiding his feelings. If he wanted Kenma in any way other than platonic, then Kenma would have known by now. So Kenma had forced himself to be content with their easy, friendly interactions, living on the small touches Kuroo gave him like little gifts. He thought back to Kuroo’s hand on his neck as they were smoking earlier in the night. Moments like that allowed him to keep going.

Kenma relied on Kuroo so much, even if he had felt completely platonically toward him. Their relationship was uneven. Kenma followed close behind Kuroo wherever he went, hiding in his shadow, depending on him to protect him from the world. Kuroo didn’t need Kenma at all, and he certainly didn’t want him as more than a friend. 

That much had been made clear time and time again, including right now, with Kuroo’s panicked face filling Kenma’s vision. 

_Fucking shit, let’s just get it over with. No pussies._ Kenma stood up, breaking Akaashi’s hold around his chest. He strode toward Kuroo, who watched him approach with terror in his eyes. Oikawa clapped in the background, and Hinata hooted, “Yeah, Kenma!” 

Kenma stopped in front of Kuroo, and looked down at him. “Is it so terrible to have to kiss me?” Kuroo gaped up at him. “No! Kenma! It’s not that, it’s just...we- we’re friends,” he finished weakly. 

“You can kiss your friends. It doesn’t have to be weird.” Kuroo looked unconvinced. Kenma sighed, and decided to rip the bandaid off. He took another step forward, this time planting his feet on either side of Kuroo’s thighs. Then, he lowered himself into Kuroo’s lap, straddling him. He grabbed his chin, and stared him down fiercely. “It doesn’t have to be weird.” He repeated. Kuroo swallowed, nodded, and Kenma felt his hands come up behind him to rest on his lower back.

Taking a deep breath, Kenma tipped his forehead forward to rest it against Kuroo’s. He could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Kuro,” he whispered, “it’s only me. It makes sense that you’d be my first kiss anyway.” Kuroo huffed, a sound of tentatively amused agreement.

Bracing himself, Kenma leaned forward and said against his best friend’s mouth, “Kiss me, Kuro.”

Kuroo surged forward, and Kenma felt chapped lips meet his own. Their noses bumped awkwardly, so Kenma titled his head slightly, pressing his lips more assuredly onto Kuroo’s. He felt Kuroo’s hand move from his back to his cheek, thumb sweeping back and forth across his temple. 

Their mouths moved together for a second or two, then Kenma cautiously parted his lips, just a fraction. Kuroo tensed, then relaxed, and then Kenma felt his tongue smooth gently across the open seam. Kenma pushed his own tongue forward to meet it, and when they touched, he felt sparks skitter down his spine.

Distantly, Kenma could hear whispers and giggles from the circle of idiots behind him. He ignored them; if this was the only chance he’d ever get to kiss Kuroo, he was going to do his best to give as good as he got and appreciate it.

Kuroo’s hand at his back pulled him closer, further into his lap, and Kenma _did not_ swoon internally. He was not the swooning type. Yet, the way his stomach flipped and swooped at the feeling of Kuroo’s hot tongue swiping behind his teeth felt a lot like a swoon, he admitted subconsciously. Their teeth clacked briefly, and Kenma smiled into the kiss. Kuroo pulled back, just barely an inch away, to look cross-eyed at him. Kenma blinked once, then tugged him back down.

 _Holy shit, why did I do that. One kiss! It was only supposed to be one kiss!_ But to Kenma’s surprise, Kuroo immediately slipped his tongue back into his mouth. He tasted like tequila and strawberry Calpico. Kenma loved it. He made a tiny sound in the back of his throat, and Kuroo swallowed it. Then, because the gods wanted Kenma to suffer, he tugged at Kenma’s bottom lip with his teeth. Before he could stop himself, Kenma moaned, sucking at Kuroo’s top lip in return. Realizing that he’d just made a horrifically embarrassing sound, his eyes flew open.

Horrifyingly, Kuroo’s expression seemed to match Kenma’s one of pure, complete mortification. Kuroo lifted his hands away from Kenma’s back and face as though they’d been burned, and Kenma had just enough time to register a hardness under the bottom inner part of his left thigh before he was unceremoniously shoved off Kuroo’s lap. 

His left thigh, which just so happened to have been laying directly over -

 _No fucking way! No way._ Kenma looked cautiously at Kuroo from where he was sprawled on the patio. Kuroo’s face was red, and his expression was angry and defensive. 

“It’s only natural, it’s not because of you.” He stated gruffly.

“Of course.” Kenma replied, voice calm despite the shrieking of his inner monologue. 

“OH MY GOD! Kuroo, did you get a BONER?” Oikawa all but screamed. 

“Shut the fuck up, Oikawa. You’re up next. “ Oikawa sniffed haughtily, and crossed his arms. 

Kenma knew the group wouldn’t let it go that easily, and sure enough, Tanaka was the next to holler, “HAH! Kuroo got a big gay boner for Kenma!”

“I was kissing someone who was straddling me. It’s a normal reaction.” Kuroo growled. “Everyone shut up. Oikawa, truth or dare.”

Attention finally diverted away from him, Kenma crawled across the circle to sit back between Akaashi’s legs. Akaashi squeezed his shoulder, and whispered, “We can talk about it later, if you want.” Kenma nodded, barely perceptible, and leaned against Akaashi’s chest tiredly.

His first kiss. Ever, and with Kuroo. Kenma’s head spun, both with the alcohol that was still swimming in his stomach and with the rush of what had just happened. _Kuroo kissed me_ he thought dazedly. He touched his lip, remembering the way Kuroo’s mouth felt on his, and filed the memory of the sensation away for later. 

_Tonight is supposed to be fun, stop thinking about it_. Forcing himself to pay attention to his surroundings, Kenma listened as Oikawa replied to Kuroo, “Dare.”

Kuroo seemed to have gathered himself, appearing normal despite his earlier, er, problem. “I dare you to confess to whoever you’re in love with.” Oikawa’s eyes flickered dangerously, and he rubbed his neck with one hand. 

“Fine. I’m about to graduate anyway. Might as well burn a few bridges.” He flipped open his cell phone, pressing a button to what must’ve been a speed dial. “Iwa-chan? Can you come out to the patio? What! No, I’m not throwing up! Shut up! Iwa-chan, meanie! Just come out here! I need to tell you something.”

Hanamaki from earlier looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head, and he began choking. Bokuto began slapping him on the back, and Kenma giggled. Apparently he was still crossed enough that he could let go of recent events and enjoy himself. _I must be seriously fucked up, if I’m this calm right now,_ he thought absently. Oikawa had hung up on his “Iwa-chan”. Kenma wasn’t positive who that was, but he had a hunch it was Aoba Johsai’s ace, Iwaizumi Hajime.

As usual, Kenma was right, and Iwaizumi stepped onto the patio a few seconds later. “What do you want, Shittykawa,” he grunted. He looked entirely unamused, staring down at their ridiculous little circle of drunken boys. “Iwa-chan!” Oikawa leapt up and threw his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, who leaned away from him.  
  
“Oikawa, you stink like alcohol. Tell me whatever it is that you needed me for, then I’m leaving. I was playing cards with Mattsun and Asahi and you interrupted us.”

“Iwa-channn, don’t get mad at me. I’m a little drunk,” he punctuated this point with a hiccup, “But what I’m about to say is serious. You’re not allowed to hate me!”

Iwaizumi eyed him weirdly. “Spit it out.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime, I, Oikawa Tooru, am in love with you.” A hush fell over the patio.

Much to Kenma’s surprise, Iwaizumi just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I fucking know, dipshit. Get off of me. Can I leave now?” Oikawa gasped, and fluttered his eyelashes dramatically. 

“You KNEW? HOW DID YOU KNOW?”  
  
“Oikawa, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You can’t hide anything from me. I’ve been waiting until you were ready to talk about it. Should’ve known it’d be while you’re drunk. If you still remember this tomorrow, we can have a conversation. Right now, I am going to go finish playing cards.” He detached himself from Oikawa, slipping out from under his arms, and strode calmly back into the house. Slowly, Oikawa spun on his heel to face the group. 

“Holy FUCKING SHIT. HE KNEW!” He gasped again, collapsing back into his spot next to Kuroo. “Did you guys know?” He demanded, pointing an accusing finger around the circle. 

Kenma felt himself speak before he realized he had planned on opening his mouth. “I did.” Oikawa turned to him with a third gasp, a question in his eyes. “You’re pretty obvious. You look at him like he’s all hot and you wanna eat him or something. It’s gross.”

Oikawa seemed to pause, considering. “Well, Iwa-chan is pretty hot. Wow, Pudding-chan. You’re so observant!” Kenma shrugged. He knew he was observant, that was why he was Nekoma’s _brain_ or whatever stupid shit Kuroo always said. Oikawa continued, “Guys, Iwa-chan didn’t reject me! Did you hear? He said we would talk! That’s a good thing, right?”

To anyone less observant than Kenma, Oikawa was a shallow, annoying, attention-seeking brat, but Kenma could tell he was actually nervous about his confession. He was definitely still annoying and attention-seeking, and a brat, but he wasn’t shallow. It was clear he actually did love Iwaizumi. 

So when Akaashi spoke up to say, “Yeah, Oikawa-san, I think that’s a good thing. It’ll be okay. Iwaizumi-san cares about you a lot,” Kenma felt a warm rush of affection for his friend. _Akaashi is so smart, and kind_ , Kenma thought. Oikawa shot Akaashi a grateful look, one that would’ve escaped anyone not directly in his line of vision. 

Making a loud, wordless noise to retrieve everyone’s attention, Suga gestured impatiently for Oikawa to choose who was next. But Oikawa just groaned. “This is boring now. All the drama has been used up. Can we do something else now?” Kenma found himself agreeing. There had been enough damage done during this game to last a lifetime. 

“Yeah, I’m tired. Let’s go back inside.” Hinata said softly, and yawned. His head was leaning against Kageyama’s collarbone, and he looked quite comfortable. The dark-haired setter seemed to be exerting some serious effort to be still, trying to not disturb Hinata at all. He was watching Hinata, something sincere and gentle in his gaze, and Kenma’s heart tripped. _I wish Kuroo looked at me like that_ , he wished for not the first time that night. 

Kenma pushed himself up off the patio floorboards, and Akaashi followed suit. The group filtered inside one at a time. Back in the house, the music was much quieter, and it seemed like many of the guests had left already. Kenma wondered if Yamaguchi was alright. He hoped that he was.

Kuroo had driven them four hours to come to this party, and so he was Kenma’s only option for a ride back home. But Kenma couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting in a silent car with Kuroo for several hours. And Kuroo had been drinking. Driving home was out of the question. Turning to Akaashi, he asked, “What are you doing the rest of the night? Are you sleeping here?” 

“Yeah, Bokuto-san and I took a bus. We asked Tanaka-san before we came if we could sleep over, he said it was fine.”

Kenma nodded, relief visible on his face. _Thank god,_ he thought, grateful he could avoid uncomfortable silences with Kuroo for at least a little while longer. He pulled out his phone, texting Kuroo a quick “sleeping here, Akaashi says its fine” to avoid having to speak to him. He allowed Akaashi to lead him upstairs, where Hinata and Kageyama were already setting up futons. 

“Hey, are there enough futons?” Kenma asked, glancing worriedly around the room.

“Umm,” Hinata started sheepishly, “There’s only four. Me and Kageyama can share one” - blush - “and then Nishinoya needs one, Bokuto and Akaashi, and you and Kuroo. So, you guys can either pair up or sleep on the floor.” He rushed out of the room, presumably to the bathroom, with Kageyama not far behind.

Akaashi turned a calm face to Kenma. “Would you rather share a bed with me or Kuroo-san?”

Kenma hesitated. Normally, he’d say Kuroo without a second thought, but he felt too awkward to even talk to him right now. But if he saw that Kenma chose to sleep with Akaashi instead of him, he might be hurt. _Probably not_ , Kenma admitted internally, _but maybe._ “I guess I’d better sleep with Kuro. Are you okay sharing with Bokuto?”

Akaashi blushed slightly. “Yes, it will be fine. I am accustomed to sleeping next to Bokuto-san.” He turned even redder, realizing what he’d implied. “Not! Not like that. I just mean he doesn’t have a futon at his house so we share his bed whenever I sleep over. It’s no big deal.”

Kenma laughed softly. “Akaashi, those are the most words you’ve said at once all night. It’s okay, you don’t have to defend yourself. I’m glad you’re close with Bokuto.”

Dipping his head, Akaashi smiled and sat on the futon closest to Hinata and Kageyama. “We’ll take this one. I’m not sure where Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san are, but they’ll come up eventually.”

Kenma flopped down on the other futon. “This can be ours, then.” He felt his chest tighten at his own choice of phrasing. Ours. “I mean, Kuro and I can sleep here.” _Ugh._

Hinata and Kageyama chose that moment to return from the bathroom. “We’re going to bed, so I’m turning the lights off and you have to be quiet.” Kageyama said gruffly. The lights flickered off, and Kenma heard Kageyama’s soft _oof_ as Hinata hit him with a pillow. “Yamayama, be nice!” Hinata stage whispered.

Kenma stifled a laugh into his hand. He still felt a little bit out of it, the world fuzzy and soft around the edges. Shifting on the futon, he realized he was still wearing jeans. He shucked them down his legs with one hand, kicked them off his ankles, and stretched out. Sitting up slightly to grab the blanket, he pulled it over his chest, and relaxed once more. He closed his eyes, and within seconds the alcohol and weed worked their magic and Kenma was dead to the world.


	2. Kuroo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo's POV.

Kuroo sprawled on his bed, opening up the text message he had just received from “Karasuno Baldie”.  _ Hey, lesser captain of all team captains. Me and my sister are throwing a party this weekend cuz it’s the end of the school year. You in? _

Letting out a soft whoop, Kuroo quickly responded with  _ Haha, I’m definitely a better captain than Sawamura, but I’ll forgive you and come to your party as long as I can bring Kenma. _

A ding indicating that Tanaka had replied came about thirty seconds later.  _ Sure, that’s your setter, right? Bring him, and Yamamoto, and whoever else wants to come. _ Kuroo fist pumped, and then realized what a dork he was being. He cleared his throat, and then felt like even more of an idiot for trying to look cool in the privacy of his own bedroom.

He decided to ask Kenma later that night after dinner. He was already planning to go over to his house and laze around while Kenma played video games. It was what they did pretty much every night, Kuroo sitting on the floor and talking while Kenma mostly ignored him. It worked, though, because Kuroo was happy to talk and didn’t mind that Kenma didn’t reply much. He was happy just to be in the presence of his quiet, adorable, video game nerd of a best friend.

Ah. That word, adorable. That was a new one in Kuroo’s repertoire of words-to-describe-Kenma. 

All his life, Kenma had been a constant presence at Kuroo’s side. They grew up together, going from giggling kids to awkward pre-teens to only slightly less awkward teenagers. Kenma had been with him every step of the way. They had never been apart longer than a few days, whenever one of them went on brief trips or family vacations. Even those rare stretches of a few days always felt weird, wrong. Being close to Kenma, emotionally and physically, was something that Kuroo didn’t necessarily take for granted, but that was a part of the fabric of his life. It was the foundation of everything, and it kept him afloat.

Kenma was the reason why Kuroo could be such a good team captain, why he was mostly confident on and off the court. Kenma’s quiet, unrelenting belief in him gave him strength every single day. He trusted Kuroo to protect him, knew all of his secrets and saw him through every embarrassing moment, and he still thought he was dependable. Kenma’s reliance on him made him feel important, and capable.

So as graduation loomed closer, and Kuroo became faced with the prospect of imminently losing that closeness, it sent his brain into panicked overdrive. He began thinking about Kenma  _ constantly _ , both when he was with him and when he wasn’t. He savored every single moment with him. He had felt an almost desperation every time he saw him over the last 3 months, terror clawing at his chest because he just kept thinking that this could be the last time they played some game together, or shared a popsicle, or sat on a specific bench side by side. 

In all of his overthinking, he had realized something terrifying. The way that he felt about Kenma was so different from how he felt about Tora, or even Yaku. He had always written it off as the soul-deep bond between childhood best friends, but all of his recent analysis and contemplation had him reconsidering.

Every time Kenma touched him, or more often simply allowed Kuroo to touch him, he felt warmth down to his toes. The contact was bittersweet; it eased Kuroo’s nerves like nothing else, but it also made that feeling of desperation rise in his throat like bile. He was constantly fighting the urge to dig his claws into Kenma, pull him close and never let the world take him away. And that possessiveness, that fierce voice in his head that said  _ mine _ …

He couldn’t deny any longer that it just wasn’t platonic.

The realization had officially struck him six weeks ago, on their walk home from school. Kuroo had asked Kenma how his day was, and Kenma had replied, “It was okay. Boring. Better now though.” At Kenma’s words, Kuroo’s ears had gone hot, and out of nowhere, he thought  _ better because I’m here with you now.  _

Then, he suddenly thought forward to a future where Kuroo was away at college, and Kenma was walking home with someone else, telling them that his day was better now that he was with them. 

His stomach had seized up at the thought, and then sunk. Jealousy at a completely hypothetical, nonexistent situation curled in his gut. In that moment, he realized that he wanted to be the only one who made Kenma’s days better. 

Immediately, he hated himself for the selfish thought. He wanted Kenma to be happy, loved it when he smiled shyly and giggled quietly. But he didn’t want Kenma to rely on anyone else the way he relied on Kuroo.

Shocked and disgusted by his own thought process, Kuroo had mumbled out “Good to hear,” and ran the rest of the way home like an idiot. Later than night in Kenma’s bedroom as they played Mario Kart, Kenma hadn’t asked any questions. Another thing he loved about Kenma; he never pried, never forced Kuroo to open up or tell him anything when he wasn’t ready.

He loved Kenma.

Once he had accepted it, processed his feelings of possession and warmth for what they were, things got a little bit easier. He no longer felt like a captive in his own mind, obsessing over Kenma’s every action and word for reasons he didn’t understand. He understood, now, and he more than that he understood that he couldn’t do anything about it.

Even if there was a small, fractional chance that Kenma might want him back  _ in that way _ , Kuroo could never tell him right before he was about to leave. That was cruel. It would either end in Kenma accepting his feelings, only to make their goodbye even more painful, or Kenma rejecting him and permanently rupturing their friendship, and Kuroo would have to depart knowing he had ruined the most important thing in the world. 

He didn’t even want to consider the third possibility, that Kenma would be repulsed by him, hate him for his feelings, and refuse to speak to him ever again. It wasn’t that unlikely, given how taboo gay relationships were in Japan, even in these modern times. A lot of people were homophobic. Kuroo didn’t think Kenma would ever be such a prejudiced asshole, but the chance still remained.

So he began holding himself back, forcing himself to withdraw his hand from Kenma whenever he caught himself touching too much, or too often. Gently, he pulled away from Kenma, mostly for his own sake but also for Kenma’s. He didn’t allow himself to be selfish, telling himself that doing so could only ever hurt Kenma, whether now or in the long run. 

He’d been subtle about it. Kenma was observant as hell, but he hadn’t said anything about how Kuroo’s touches lingered for shorter periods of time than usual. Kuroo figured that if he noticed or took issue with it, he’d have said something. Over the last few weeks, their relationship hadn’t changed much besides this small alteration on Kuroo’s part. 

That was why, despite everything, Kuroo still planned on going over to Kenma’s house that night and begging him to go to Tanaka’s party with him. He knew that Kenma hated parties, but he’d pull the “I’m graduating” card and make puppy eyes at him, and maybe Kenma would give in.

He really hoped he would give in. An unfortunate consequence of Kuroo’s recently developed and strictly implemented self-control was that he missed Kenma a lot. They hung out just as often as before, but it felt like there was a small gap between them, even if only Kuroo noticed it. So a chance to go to a party with him, maybe get a little tipsy and use it as an excuse to pull Kenma into his lap like he used to, sounded amazing. 

When he arrived at Kenma’s house later that night, he called a greeting to his friend’s parents and kicked his shoes off at the genshan, then headed straight down the hall to Kenma’s room. Once in the room, he took a seat on the floor next to Kenma, and pulled his headset away from his ear to say “Hello, kitten!” into his best friend’s ear, who recoiled.

“Kuro. Stop doing that, it’s annoying.” Kuroo smiled at the fact that he hadn’t chastised him for the nickname, only the displacement of his headset. “Miss me?” He said in reply, baring his teeth.

“Yeah, I’ve been pining.” Kenma deadpanned. 

Kuroo snorted and leaned forward to grab a Switch controller. “Pause whatever that is and play Luigi’s Mansion with me?”

“Okay.” The game was sort of Halloween-themed, but Kuroo enjoyed sucking things up with Luigi’s —or Gooigi’s, as Kuroo was always relegated to the secondary player position— Poltergust machine. It was therapeutic, and Kenma agreed, so they played often. To Kuroo’s amusement, even the ever-talented Kenma continually struggled against the Pianist Ghost boss, so they had been stuck on that floor for the last week. 

Kenma pulled out the game cartridge of whatever he had been playing upon Kuroo’s arrival, Bioshock or something, and slipped the Luigi’s Mansion 3 one into the slot. The TV screen lit up with the main menu, and Kuroo let his attention slip as Kenma set up multiplayer mode. He tried to think of how best to bring up the subject of the party, without scaring Kenma off.

“Hey, Kenma.” He got a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement. “Tanaka texted me today.”

“‘Kay.”

“He asked me if I wanted to go to a party at his house this weekend.”

“Great.”

“I told him I’d go only if I could bring you.” Kenma slowly turned to face him, nose wrinkled. 

“I hate parties, Kuro. I’m not going. Have fun.” He turned back away from him, a clear sign that his answer was final. 

“I know you do, but Kenma, I’m graduating! Soon I won’t be around to annoy you anymore, and you’ll wish I were still here to force you to do shit. Please come, just this once, for me,” Kuroo pleaded. He set his controller down, shuffled forward, and hooked his chin over Kenma’s shoulder.  _ Too much? _ He wondered.

Kenma sighed, shifting slightly to look at Kuroo sideways. “God, fine. You’re so manipulative. I’ll go with you, just this once. Now stop looking at me like that.” Kuroo fell backwards off of Kenma, letting out a happy little wordless yelp. He picked his controller back up from the floor and settled comfortably into a slouch.    


Fast forward four days, to the night of the party, and Kuroo was pulling into Tanaka’s driveway. He wasn’t technically 18 yet, but he’d been good at his driving lessons and his parents trusted him enough to let him drive himself and Kenma the four hours to Miyagi. Either that, or they were too lazy to do it themselves.

He put the car into park, and removed the keys from the ignition. Twisting slightly in his seat to face Kenma, he chuckled to see his best friend asleep against the window, cheek smushed against the glass. “Hey, kitten. Kenma,” he shook his shoulder gently.  _ Fuck, he’s so cute _ . “We’re here, sleepyhead.”

Kenma’s eyes opened slowly and he yawned, rubbing his face. Kuroo regarded the house, out of which American pop music was already blasting, and looked over to see Kenma pulling a face. “Come on, don’t be like that. I know you secretly love Lady Gaga.” 

It was a weak attempt at lightening Kenma’s mood, but it worked out, because he exhaled a small laugh and cast his eyes upward in embarrassment. Kuroo poked him in the side, singing, “Can’t read my, can’t read my, no he can’t read my, pokerfaaaace!” completely offkey. Kenma giggled behind a palm, and squirmed away from his poking fingers. “Kuro, your voice is terrible.”

“I know, just wanted to make you laugh. Can we go inside now?”

In lieu of an answer, Kenma unlocked the car door and slipped out. Kuroo followed him into the house; there were already so many people, they seemed to be the last to arrive. They left their shoes by the entrance, and Kuroo led them into the kitchen.

Kuroo had decided on the drive over that the best course of action would be to get them both drinks immediately upon arrival. He was hoping that getting at least a little bit of alcohol into Kenma’s system right away would make him possibly hate the party somewhat less than his face was currently indicating.

At the moment, he was wearing the same expression as he did when Coach Nekomata asked him to keep an eye on Lev. 

He had also brought a backup plan, in case Kenma absolutely refused to indulge in any alcohol. The minute he’d returned home the night Kenma had agreed to attend the party, he’d shot a text to Lev’s older sister, Alisa. Nobody ever guessed because she was so elegant and put-together, with long blond hair and clear blue eyes, but she was a total closet stoner. Kuroo had found out the first time she ever showed up to pick up Lev from practice, eyes lidded and an easy smile looping across her face. She had smelled a little too strongly of perfume, and Kuroo put two and two together pretty quickly.

Kenma was the brains of Nekoma, sure, but Kuroo wasn’t chosen as captain because he was stupid. 

She had agreed to give him a single pre-rolled joint in exchange for never telling Lev that his sister was a pothead. Some may have called it blackmail, but Kuroo called it business sense. 

Anyway, Kuroo had never been much of a drinker. He didn’t love the way it made him feel nauseous the next morning, and he absolutely hated the way Kenma had looked at him the one time he had stumbled drunkenly to his house instead of Kuroo’s own after a night spent playing drinking games with Yaku. 

This time, however, he was determined to have Kenma right there with him, tipsy and having fun instead of judging him. There was a large punch bowl filled with red-pink liquid on the kitchen counter, with three empty bottles of juice and one of tequila sitting a few feet away.  _ Good enough for me _ , thought Kuroo. He grabbed two red solo cups from the stack next to the sink and ladled punch into both of them. Handing one to Kenma and taking a sip of the other, he sipped, and then shrugged. It wasn’t great, but whatever. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Kenma was staring into his cup, lip curled in distaste. “Just try it,” Kuroo implored him. “It’s not that bad, I promise.” Kenma shook his head, clearly not buying it.

Well, fine. Kuroo’s initial plan had failed, but he wasn’t giving up yet. “Kenma, c’mon, it’s -” His words were cut off by a loud shout of “HEY HEY HEY!” He whipped around, excited to hear Bokuto’s voice. 

“Bo! My man! What’s up, bro?” He met him halfway across the kitchen, and they hugged roughly. Akaashi was right behind Bokuto, and Kuroo raised his cup to him in greeting. “Hey, Akaashi.”

“Hello, Kuroo-san.” Kuroo expected Akaashi to greet Kenma as well, but when he turned around to where Kenma had been standing, there was no one there. “Whoa, Kenma was literally just standing here with me,” he said, confused.

“He’ll be fine! I’m sure he has a video game thingy with him. He hates parties, anyway.” Bokuto exclaimed. Kuroo nodded unsurely.  _ He wouldn’t have walked away unless he wanted to be left alone, right? _ He couldn’t help but feel a little stupid, like he should’ve known that Kenma would just ditch him to sit in some corner almost right after they arrived to the dreaded party. 

It’s what Kuroo got for forcing him to come. 

He blew air out of his nostrils harshly, and shoved his insecurities and thoughts of Kenma out of his mind. Bokuto was here, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make tonight fun, even if Kenma hated him for making him come. He’d spend some time with Bokuto and Akaashi, and go find Kenma in an hour or so. Maybe by then he’d be bored enough to hang out with him.

“Kuroo! So, Akaashi and I were having an argument on the way here, and -”

“It was not an argument, Bokuto-san.”

“Whatever, we were having a debate. Can you settle it for us? I said that if I was a yokai, I’d be an oni. But ‘Kaashi says I’d totally be a tengu! What do you think we’d be?”

Kuroo clasped his hands, considering. “Hmm. Sorry, Bo, but I think Akaashi’s right on this one.”

“WHAT? But oni are so cool!” Bokuto cried.

“They are, but tengu are like half-human, half birds of prey, right? That’s exactly like you, Horned Owl Bastard.” 

Akaashi crossed his arms and tipped his head toward Bokuto. “See, Bokuto-san? You love owls. It makes sense.”

Bokuto’s face brightened considerably. “Huh! I didn’t really think of that. Guess tengu are pretty cool.” He paused a moment, and then continued. “Kuroo, what kind of yokai would you be?”

Kuroo grinned, catlike. “My dear Bokuto, I’d be a bakeneko, of course.” 

Akaashi exhaled a short laugh. “That’s pretty spot on, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows and meowed, causing Bokuto to explode into laughter. Their conversation devolved into assigning different yokai to members of Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Karasuno. Daichi would be a tenko, Yamamoto would be an inugami, and so on and so forth.

When Akaashi wondered aloud what kind of yokai Kenma would be, Kuroo felt a spike of guilt in his chest.  _ If he wanted to be here with me, he’d come find me _ , he reminded himself firmly. He forced himself to laugh loudly at Bokuto’s assertion that Kenma would be a tennin, because he was cute to the point of being angelic. He couldn’t help but agree, and laughing along with Akaashi made his chest feel a little less tight. 

Still, Kuroo definitely needed something more than this stupid punch to take the edge off his anxiety over Kenma. He squatted down and began opening cabinets, cheering internally when he pulled out an unopened bottle of Bacardi (Tanaka had let him know over text that anything he could find in the kitchen was fair game for drinks). Before he could rise again, he was startled by Bokuto yelling, “KENMAAAAA! When did you get here?”

He heard a familiar voice reply, saying that he was looking for Kuroo. At that, Kuroo shot up, the bottle of Bacardi still dangling in his hand. Kuroo’s heart swelled at the sight of Kenma even though he had seen him only 45 minutes ago, hair mussed and looking out of his element.  _ He  _ is _ out of his element _ , Kuroo reflected, and then decided to restart his pursuit of his earlier goal. “Kenma! Wanna take a shot with me?” He forced an extra layer of enthusiasm into his voice, hoping Kenma wouldn’t notice just how badly he wanted him to say yes.

To Kuroo’s immense relief and surprise, Kenma nodded. In his joy, Kuroo shouted “OYA!” and then covered up his embarrassing excitement by continuing, “Bokuto, Akaashi, you guys want in?” He hoped he wasn’t shaking or anything seriously humiliating. God, he was so fucking weak for Kenma, knees wobbly and begging him to drink with him just so he’d stay. 

Once Bokuto and Akaashi agreed, Kuroo poured shots for them all, and thrust one toward Kenma. Cringing internally at his obvious eagerness, he forced out a cheer of “Bottoms up!” Watching Kenma in his peripheral vision, he barely even noticed the bitterness of his own shot because he was so focused on the way Kenma’s throat moved as he swallowed the alcohol. 

Kuroo gritted his teeth as Kenma sputtered and whirled on him, hissing, “That did NOT taste like the other drink you gave me earlier, Kuro. That was so much worse.” In what he hoped was a laid back, placating tone, Kuroo spread his arms and responded, “That’s because I gave you a mixed drink and we just did a shot.” He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the way Kenma’s nose wrinkled at that.  _ So he did at least try the other drink,  _ he thought triumphantly. Maybe he could get Kenma comfortably tipsy after all.

He shuffled a few inches closer to Kenma, unable to resist grinning down at him as adoration for his sour little best friend soared in his chest. “One more?” he asked hopefully. Kuroo knew he was pushing his luck, but he sent a silent prayer to the gods to help him out here. As expected, Kenma looked at him incredulously. “Are you crazy?” Kuroo’s heart sank a little bit, but he turned to Bokuto, and said, “Maybe. Bokuto, one more?”

If Bokuto took another shot, then Akaashi might take another shot, and if Akaashi did, then Kenma might be inclined to do the same. Bokuto and Akaashi consulted for a moment, with Akaashi asking Kuroo if he thought they weren’t doing too much too fast. Kuroo had his answer at the ready; he knew Kenma would be curious if he vaguely mentioned the joint in his back pocket, and it was true that weed would make the effects of alcohol a little less toxic. 

“Nahh. It’ll be everyone’s what, third drink?” He shot a look at Kenma to see how he reacted, unsure as to how much of the mixed drink he had actually consumed. He seemed to agree with the estimate, and Kuroo felt a victorious little thrill. Kuroo continued, “All good. Plus, I got a little something for later that’ll offset the alcohol a bit.” He put on his best sly and suggestive smile, caught Kenma’s eye, and winked. Feeling bold, he lifted his finger to his mouth for a finishing touch. It seemed to work, because Akaashi verbalized his consent and soon enough they were all sputtering after their second shot. 

Kuroo felt a tug at his sleeve, and glanced down to see Kenma’s small fingers wrapped in his shirt.  _ Maybe I pushed too far,  _ he thought as he worriedly scanned Kenma’s face. He looked a little off. Kuroo went cold but made his voice gentle to say “Whoa, kitten. You good?” 

The tips of Kenma’s ears turned red, much to Kuroo’s delight despite his worry. “Fine. But Kuro, don’t leave me again for the rest of the night. Or I’m going home.”

Kuroo balked, thinking fiercely  _ I never wanted to leave you in the first place! I thought you wanted to be left alone!  _ Saying so would only make Kenma uncomfortable, however, so he casually responded, “Well, we can’t have that. I’ll stick with you, Kenma.” A wave of guilt swept over him. “Sorry for ditching you.”

Sorry didn’t even begin to cover it. Kuroo rubbed his face. He had known Kenma for so long, and he liked to think he was good at figuring out what his best friend wanted usually, but he still fucked up pretty often. Whenever he did, he hated himself for it. He let his own insecurities make him think Kenma wanted space from him, when really Kenma thought he didn’t care enough to make him stay.  _ Fuck.  _

Thankfully, Kenma offered him a smile, saying “It’s okay, but don’t do it again.” He let go of Kuroo’s sleeve, and Kuroo cursed internally.  _ I won’t _ , he promised to himself, and to Kenma. A tiny voice in the back of his head piped up,  _ but you’re leaving him for college, aren’t you, _ and he smothered it before it took over his brain.

Bokuto’s squawk of “Let’s play Smash!” gave Kuroo a welcome distraction from his thoughts. He grabbed Kenma’s hand, realized what he’d done, grabbed Bokuto’s shoulder to convince himself it was fine to touch your friends, and pulled them both toward the TV room. 

They played Smash for a little under an hour, until Akaashi asked the group if they were feeling the alcohol yet, to which the unanimous response was basically  _ yes _ . Kuroo seized the opportunity to once again bring up the little green secret that was occupying his back pocket. “Time for the surprise I was telling you about. Let’s go out back.” He tugged Kenma up off the couch, and felt a jolt of alarm when he stumbled.

Out of instinct, Kuroo’s hand moved seemingly of its own accord to Kenma’s back to steady him. Ignoring the way the static of Kenma’s shirt made him feel like there was literal electricity going through the point of contact, he asked, “You good?”

“Fine. ” He hoped Kenma wouldn’t notice his blush, and conveniently Kenma just followed Bokuto and Akaashi out to the patio without looking back. 

Kuroo had been to the Tanaka house once before, when Saeko had graciously hosted a mini get-together for the captains of Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Aoba Johsai. He hadn’t been sure what the point of the gathering was, or why Daichi had been unable to host, but it was fun enough. Daichi, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Oikawa had spent about the night comparing training regiments, eating sushi takeout, and watching recorded matches.

As a result of that night, Kuroo knew that the patio steps where their little group of four would most likely be sitting to smoke were narrow. And he’d be damned if he were the one forced to awkwardly sit on a lower or higher step than the other three.

He rushed forward, brushing past Bokuto and Akaashi and nearly tripping over the doorway in his hurry to get out to the patio. Although his plop down onto a step was more forceful than intended, he had succeeded in securing the first seat. Bokuto slid in next to him, with Akaashi to his left.

That meant that Kenma would be the awkward one left to perch on a lower step. Kuroo felt a tiny bit bad, but he figured Kenma wouldn’t really mind. He preferred social exclusion and isolation, even if it was situational and happenstance, where it made Kuroo feel uncomfortable and sad.

But Kuroo was not expecting it when Kenma squeezed around him and Bokuto to drop down on the step directly between his legs. Kuroo tensed momentarily, and then relaxed.  _ It’d be worse if Kenma noticed I was on edge. _ To Kuroo’s dismay slash absolutely disgusting levels of happiness, Kenma leaned lightly into his right leg.  _ Fuck, shit, he’s so cute, I need to touch him, fuckfuckfuck _ … 

Kuroo fervently wracked his brain for something he could do to keep Kenma where he was without making it weird. He settled for touching a hand softly to the back of Kenma’s neck, reveling in the soft skin at his nape. 

He drew a sharp breath when Kenma leaned into the touch, subtly but enough that Kuroo felt the small increase in pressure. Kuroo flexed his fingers, and tried not to scream “HOLY FUCK I LOVE YOU.”. 

Kenma reminded him of their purpose for coming out to the patio, tapping him on the chest ( _ holyfuckiloveyou)  _ and mumbling “Kuro, what’s the surprise?”

Right. Kuroo grinned wide, and reached around to his pocket to pull out the joint. He waved it around in the air enticingly, and smirked as three pairs of eyes followed its movements. “Bro, what is that?” Bokuto demanded. 

To Kuroo’s amusement, both Akaashi and Kenma recognized that the item was indeed pot. After a surprisingly small amount of cajoling, and a pinky promise to Kenma, everyone consented to smoking it together. Kuroo lit the end with a small blue lighter he had also borrowed from Alisa, and took the first puff. Immediately, he coughed, eyes watering, and waved the smoke away from his face. “Jeez. Be careful, Bo,” and passed him the joint. It hadn’t been that bad, but it definitely didn’t feel as smooth and sexy as they made it look in the movies. 

Except. When the joint made its rounds and eventually got to Kenma, Kuroo was thoroughly unprepared for the way that Kenma’s pink lips looked wrapped daintily around the joint. He was even less prepared for the way Kenma tilted his head back, exposing the column of his throat in all of its pale, delicate beauty. Kenma made smoking look even  _ more  _ smooth and sexy than it was in the movies. 

Kuroo swallowed thickly, unable to tear his gaze away as Kenma blew the smoke above his head. “What? Did I do it wrong?” Despite the fact that Kuroo’s eyes had never left Kenma’s mouth, he was caught off guard by the words coming out of them.  _ Shit, I’m totally staring. _ “No, no,” he stuttered, “It’s just. You looked good. Doing that.”

_ Real smooth, Kuroo. Very suave.  _ Jesus christ. Why did Kenma turn him into such a mess? Luckily, Bokuto chose that moment to compliment Akaashi and Kenma’s smoking techniques. “Damn, Kenma. You and Akaashi should be models, you’re both so pretty. Especially when you smoke. Like weed models!” 

Kuroo felt himself nodding in agreement. He didn’t hear Akaashi’s reply, too focused on the light blush dusting Kenma’s cheeks, so when he registered Bokuto saying, “Right, Kuroo?” he just said, “Totally. Pass that back here, Kenma.”

Kenma held out the joint for him, and Kuroo proudly noted that his fingers were not shaking when he took it. They lapsed into silence as the drug began to set in, passing the joint until it was gone. Every single time it got to Kenma, Kuroo practiced deep breathing exercises. He hoped no one noticed. 

He was in way over his head. Something needed to be done if he was going to survive the rest of this night. So when Kenma asked him for water a few moments later, he replied in the lightest tone possible, “How about another drink instead? Let’s get absolutely fucking crossed tonight. In the name of graduation, or whatever.” It was a good enough excuse.

Apparently, the gods were on Kuroo’s side tonight, because Akaashi and Kenma agreed to another alcoholic beverage. But before they went back inside, Kuroo lifted his shirt up to his nose and took a sniff. It smelled like detergent and his cologne, but he wasn’t confident that the other three had been so lucky. “Wait! Wait a second. We might smell like weed. Akaashi, check Bokuto. Make sure he doesn’t smell like a drug dealer.”

Gritting his teeth, Kuroo hooked a finger in Kenma’s shirt and pulled him toward his chest. Tucking his nose under Kenma’s chin, he inhaled. Kenma smelled like vanilla, sweet and comforting, and just a hint of the Bacardi from earlier. Kuroo was so close, he could hear Kenma’s heart beating. “All good, you smell normal,” he whispered into Kenma’s neck. In his head, he applauded himself for his composure and how coherent that sentence had been. 

Pulling back to Kenma’s eye level, that composure shattered when he realized that Kenma was looking at…  _ My mouth? Is there something in my teeth?  _ Before he could catch himself, his own eyes focused on Kenma’s mouth. He felt his heart stop altogether. Kenma’s lips were plush and the color of the inside of a seashell. 

_ PULL IT TOGETHER TETSUROU!  _ A voice in his head yelled. Kuroo released his hold on Kenma’s shirt and took a shaky step back. He pivoted on a heel, and ascended the steps a little too fast in his eagerness to escape Kenma’s molten stare. Stepping into the house, he felt Bokuto’s hand clap his shoulder. “You good, bro?”

Kuroo shuddered. “Fuck, Bo. Let’s just go to the kitchen, I need another fucking drink. Not a shot though.” Bokuto stayed silent. He was loud and immature, but he wasn’t dumb and he was nothing if not a good friend. Kuroo loved him for his steady presence, easy laugh, and lack of judgement.

He reached the kitchen counter and gripped it tightly, begging it to anchor him to this Earth and stop him from flying into the stratosphere every time Kenma so much as looked at him.  _ What is going on tonight _ , he wondered tiredly. The last three months since he came to terms with his feelings for Kenma had been a bit of a pain, sure, but that was nothing compared to the ache he felt right now.

It must be the alcohol, he decided. His only option was to keep drinking until he passed beyond lowered inhibitions and into the territory of numbness.

Kuroo spotted a half-full bottle of vodka laying on the counter in front of him, and it gave him an idea. He yanked open the refrigerator, and was pleased to see exactly what he was looking for. On the inner plastic shelves stood two bottles of Calpico, one lychee flavored and one strawberry. Lychee was his favorite flavor, but strawberry was Kenma’s, so he chose that one immediately. 

Turning back toward Bokuto who was sitting on the counter, he held up the Calpico. Bokuto cheered, having already experienced the magic that was vodka-plus-Calpico several times before. Kuroo grabbed four cups, and began mixing one part vodka, three parts strawberry Calpico into them. He looked up at the sound of Bokuto announcing, “No more shots, guys. Kuroo says we’re done with shots.” 

Akaashi and Kenma were entering the kitchen, both of their eyes red rimmed from the pot. Kuroo contained a smile at the sight. 

Kuroo finished mixing, and handed a cup of his concoction to each of them, and waited to see how they liked it. He relaxed at Kenma’s “S’good”, and puffed up proudly when Akaashi asked, “Wow, Kuroo-san, are you sure there’s anything in this? It just tastes like strawberry.”

“I mixed strawberry Calpico with vodka,” he replied. “Sounds gross, but the Calpico neutralizes the harshness of the alcohol.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened to see Bokuto chugging the drink. “Whoa! Bo, it might taste good, but there’s plenty of alcohol in there!” 

“Make me another!”

“Absolutely not. Akaashi, deal with him.” Kuroo turned away, trusting Akaashi to talk some sense into his ace. He stared into his cup, swirling its pink contents. He felt fiercely glad that Kenma liked the drink he had made, and then promptly felt stupid for that gladness.  _ Pathetic. _

Glancing at Kenma sideways, he saw him take a too-big gulp of the drink and felt a surge of affection. The feeling was cut off when Kenma noticed his eyes on him, and hurriedly tried to swallow the whole mouthful all at once. Kuroo’s mouth went dry as he watched a small rivulet of liquid dribble down Kenma’s chin. 

Kuroo must’ve blacked out or something, because all of the sudden he was moving, stepping forward to wipe away the stray drops with his thumb. He lifted it to his mouth and sucked, then nearly passed out once he processed what he had just done. By some miracle, he managed to stay upright and keep his face neutral.  _ Oh my god. Oh my god. _

Kenma mumbled something inaudible, prompting Akaashi to ask, “What, Kenma?”

“Sorry, talking to myself.” Kuroo snorted, nearly delirious with what had just happened and the blessing that no one called him out for his less-than-normal behavior. Kenma glared at his snort, and Kuroo busied himself by taking another sip of his drink.

Music blared throughout the house, something shitty by One Direction.  _ Jeez, who the fuck in on aux,  _ Kuroo thought to himself. Just then, Niall Horan’s voice faded out to be replaced by a deep, sultry bass line that Kuroo recognized. “Holy shit, I love this song,” he blurted, and spun to jab Bokuto in the shoulder. “Bo, let’s go dance!”

He recognized distantly that if Kenma didn’t follow them to the main room where people were dancing, he’d be ditching him again. But at this point, Kuroo felt like being around Kenma would only bring more close calls. Anyway, Akaashi probably wouldn’t want to dance if Kenma didn’t, and he could stay with him.

Bokuto threw an arm around Kuroo’s neck and yanked him in the direction of the main room. There were a ton of people, bodies moving to the rhythm that seemed to be shaking the floorboards. Kuroo and Bokuto slipped easily into the crowd, and Kuroo allowed himself to laugh and dance with his friend. They fell into a stupid mini competition between the two of them, going back and forth to see who had the best (stupidest) moves. 

The minutes fell away and Kuroo felt himself loosening up, letting go of all of the tension that Kenma brought upon him.  _ That I brought upon myself _ , he corrected himself through the haze of dancing.  _ Kenma isn’t doing anything wrong.  _ He forced himself to release some of his stress, focusing on Rihanna’s crooning voice and the ridiculous thing Bokuto was doing with his hands. 

Swinging his head to the side, he caught sight of a curtain of yellow-blond hair several feet away.  _ Kenma is here? Dancing? _ Kuroo wondered incredulously if his best friend had been bodysnatched. Kenma hated dancing, but apparently the weed and the alcohol had caused him to lose some of his signature grumpy reservedness. 

Making out another head of black hair, Kuroo realized that Akaashi was in front of Kenma, facing him, and laughing slightly as they both danced. They both looked self-conscious and a bit awkward, but they seemed to be having fun. Kuroo felt pleased that he had been right, that Kenma was okay with Akaashi. Then he felt a little bit sad, because Kenma was okay with Akaashi, and without Kuroo. 

He turned back to Bokuto, who grabbed both of his hands and pulled him forward into his chest. “Let’s slow dance!”   


Kuroo tipped his head back and laughed. “To Rihanna?”

“Bro, when I’m with you, everything is romantic.”

Kuroo grinned wolfishly. “Oh yeah? How… bromantic.” 

Bokuto’s eyes widened, and he exclaimed, “BROMANTIC! YES! That’s exactly what it is!”

He tilted Kuroo into a low dip, and they both cracked up. Kuroo felt sweaty and happy, and he felt lucky for the effortlessness of his friendship with Bokuto. “You’re my platonic soulmate, Bo.”

Bokuto beamed, and pulled Kuroo upright. “Always, bro.” But his eyes unfocused, searching somewhere over Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo followed his gaze to Kenma and Akaashi. Kenma was talking loudly to Yamaguchi, and Akaashi seemed to be half-listening, half-staring intently at the back of Kenma’s head. Kuroo watched as Akaashi lowered his shoulders, and a look of grim determination came over his face. His hands came forward and he rested them on Kenma’s hips, tightening there.

Kuroo’s brain glitched. He shoved his mouth to Bokuto’s ear, made a bunch of unintelligible sounds, and Bokuto nodded rapidly, indicating that he was seeing the same thing. They watched, enraptured, as Kenma twisted his head to say something to Akaashi. Kenma’s lips were forming words that Kuroo couldn’t make out, too close to Akaashi’s flushed cheeks, and then he was turning his head back around. Kuroo exhaled.

But it wasn’t over. Akaashi didn’t drop his hands from Kenma’s waist. Instead, Kenma leaned his shoulders into Akaashi’s chest, tilting back onto his body, and began moving. His fucking. Hips.

Kuroo blindly grabbed Bokuto’s collar, yanking him until their faces were parallel. “Are you fucking seeing this right now?” Bokuto’s face was white, and Kuroo had never seen him look so appalled. “Akaashi’s never done anything like this before, not that I’ve seen,” he whispered. “Holy shit, Kuroo. I can’t tell if I’m turned on or jealous right now.” He whined softly.

“I think maybe both…” Bokuto nodded solemnly, face still pale. They continued to watch the moving pair, eyes glued to the where Kenma and Akaashi’s bodies were connected.  _ Kenma is completely fucking grinding on Akaashi right now.  _ “They’re grinding, Kuroo.” Bokuto voiced his thoughts in an awed-slash-panicked tone. 

To Kuroo’s increased horror, Akaashi chose that moment to make eye contact with him. Then, to Kuroo’s even more increased horror, he tapped the side of Kenma’s face, directing his hooded gaze gently to where Bokuto and Kuroo stood. “Bo! They can see us staring, we look like pervs!” Kuroo hissed, yanking again on his friend’s collar.

“We are pervs, bro! We’re watching our best friends grind on each other and I don’t know about you but it’s pretty hot!”

Kuroo reached his free hand up to scrub at his face. “Well, yeah, but they don’t need to know that!” Despite his own words, he kept watching as a droplet of sweat traveled from Kenma’s temple all the way down his neck. Kenma pulled Akaashi’s hand where it had been tapping his face and dragged it back to his hip. Akaashi pulled him impossibly closer, and Kuroo’s mouth dropped further open as Kenma undulated against somebody that wasn’t him. 

Kuroo felt like a voyeur, mesmerized by Akaashi and Kenma’s fluid movements. He also felt murderous rage. 

He reminded himself that no one had any idea how he felt about Kenma, not even Bo despite the implications of the past few minutes, and certainly not Akaashi. Next to him, Bokuto whined again. “Kuroo, I hate this. Make them stop it!” But Kuroo could only keep watching, helplessly, wishing more than anything in the world that he could switch places with Akaashi. 

By some miracle, the music faded out a moment later to give way to Sugawara Koushi’s voice. Kuroo managed to tear his eyes away from Kenma’s slowing form to process Suga announcing a game of truth or dare, to be played on the patio. “Bro, let’s play! It’ll be good after… that.” Bokuto’s eyes were hopeful, but his mouth was turned down. Kuroo felt a pang, not completely understanding Bokuto’s displeasure but assuming that watching your best friend getting weird with anyone would be an uncomfortable experience. 

“Sure, yeah.” He took a deep breath, glanced back at Kenma once more, who was talking closely with Akaashi (too close) and stepped toward the direction of the patio door. Bokuto followed behind, mumbling under his breath something about “stupid ‘Kaashi.” They reached the patio and took a seat, on the far edge of a slowly assembling circle of drunk teenage boys. Kuroo saw Oikawa, Suga of course, Tanaka, and a couple others. 

He looked down at his hands. He couldn’t believe that he had just seen Kenma dancing with Akaashi. Not just dancing, but dancing  _ inappropriately. _ Kuroo had known that Kenma and Akaashi were good friends, that was why he had felt alright leaving them together to dance with Bokuto in the first place. But he had no idea they were  _ that  _ close.  _ Does that mean Kenma likes boys?  _ He wondered.  _ No, he’s just fucking drunk, and that’s my fault.  _ He resolved to never say anything to Kenma about it, for fear that the sober version of his best friend might find the situation regrettable and embarrassing.  _ I’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.  _

The sounds of giggling caused Kuroo to look up, only to see Kenma and Akaashi tip noisily through the doorway. They were leaning on each other and whispering into each other’s ears. Kuroo realized with dismay that they also intended to play truth or dare. Bokuto wore a similar expression of concern, and Kuroo leaned into him lightly, reassuring. “It’s fine, Bo. They’re just drunk. We’ll keep an eye on them, and take care of ‘em later tonight when it wears off.” Bokuto nodded, lips uncharacteristically pulled tight. 

Akaashi sat down first. Kuroo looked around, seeing that there weren’t really any seats left for Kenma. He lifted his hand to gesture Kenma over to him, planning to offer his lap so that they could sit how they had earlier while smoking. But Kenma didn’t seem to see him, instead beelining directly after Akaashi and settling comfortably between his legs. Kuroo lowered his hand, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched Akaashi’s hands fold over Kenma’s chest, securing him against him. 

Kuroo’s exhale rattled in his chest. Tonight was not at all turning out to be the fucking happy peaceful time for which he had been hoping. He heard Suga saying something, but nothing could get past the ringing in his ears. His world shrunk to Akaashi’s fingers intertwining and laying on Kenma’s chest. It should’ve been his legs that Kenma perched between, his hands touching Kenma’s torso. Possessiveness roared through Kuroo’s body, and he itched to stalk across the circle and rip Kenma out of Akaashi’s hold. 

But he sat, and stared, and fumed. He paid vague and distant attention to Tanaka making some phone call on a dare, and then to Oikawa admitting some dumb half-truth, and then to Kageyama and Hinata’s forced lap-sitting. Then, Kageyama chose Bokuto to perform a dare, and Kuroo’s attention veered somewhat closer to the present moment. He registered Bokuto complimenting Akaashi, a blush barely visible high on his cheekbones, and then Akaashi’s demure gratitude. 

He also registered that Akaashi’s knuckles whitened on Kenma’s chest, tighter than before. All he could see were those knuckles, and he grit his teeth and counted slowly up to eighty-seven, completely oblivious to what was happening around him until a voice snapped him out of it. “Kuroo! O captain of Nekoma. Truth or dare.”

Kuroo blinked, the red that curled around the edges of his vision seeping away. He rolled his shoulders, and, doing his best to sound nonchalant, replied “Either. I’m not scared of anything and I’ve got nothing to hide.”

His heart skipped at the blatant lie, but he reminded himself that no one had any idea about his secret. After all, it was Suga giving the dare, and he literally didn’t know the first thing about Kuroo. So when Suga smiled, and opened his mouth, Kuroo felt at ease as he listened to the beginning of his words. “Kuroo, I dare you to…

...kiss Kenma.”

Kuroo felt shock sear through him. Surely he hadn’t heard that correctly. Surely he was dreaming, or having a nightmare, or the weed had been laced with a hallucinogen. This couldn’t possibly be happening. He was vaguely aware that he was wearing a very obviously panicked expression, but he couldn’t bring himself to change it, because dammit, he  _ was  _ fucking panicking. He couldn’t kiss Kenma! Not here, in front of all these people, not at all! Not ever! If he kissed Kenma, there was no way Kenma wouldn’t figure it out. Kenma could read him like a book, and the only way he’d been able to keep his little secret over the past few months was by keeping his distance. And kissing?  _ That was not distance. _

Kuroo was frozen in terror as he watched Kenma detach himself from Akaashi and stand up, walking toward him. He stopped once he was directly in front of Kuroo, and looked down at him. “Is it so terrible to have to kiss me?” Kenma asked him a small, defensive voice. Kuroo’s heart shattered, and he gaped up at his best friend. 

“No! Kenma!” He searched for something to say, anything that might get him out of this, explain away why he looked so afraid right now. “It’s not that, it’s just… we- we’re friends,” Kuroo felt a part of himself die at how feeble his voice was, how pitiful he sounded. As he tried to sink lower into the floor, Kenma cut through his thoughts and retorted, “You can kiss your friends. It doesn’t have to be weird.”

Kuroo thought for a second, pulling himself back into the real world, where he was sitting on the patio and not spinning through an abyss of panic inside his head. He ran quickly through the facts: he was playing Truth or Dare with his friends, and he and Kenma were both cross-faded. Through the fog in his brain, he realized that it’d probably look even weirder if he flat-out refused to kiss Kenma. It’d make everyone wonder why he was making such a big deal out of it, and it also might hurt Kenma’s feelings. 

Before he could react or respond, Kenma was lowering himself into Kuroo’s lap, legs on either side of his thighs as he faced him.  _ Kenma is straddling me _ , Kuroo thought stupidly. He sat silently, acquiescing to his fate. Kenma touched his forehead to Kuroo’s, and everything in Kuroo’s head suddenly went quiet. 

The world faded away, and Kuroo inhaled the scent of vanilla. Kenma’s gentle voice trickled into his ear, saying “Kuro, it’s only me. It makes sense that you’d be my first kiss anway.” Kuroo huffed softly, thinking to himself  _ if it were anyone else, I’d probably kill them. _ He felt a mouth mere centimeters from his own, and then Kenma was whispering, “Kiss me, Kuro.” And Kuroo couldn’t imagine a world where he was strong enough to say no to that.

He moved quickly, covering Kenma’s mouth with his own. His hands traveled, one spreading across Kenma’s lower back and the other on his cheek, tracing gently over his temple. Kenma’s skin was so soft, and his lips even softer.  _ This is how I die _ , Kuroo thought, and then his brain short-circuited and shut down entirely when he felt Kenma’s mouth open slightly. Thoughtlessly, Kuroo swiped his tongue across the gap, and felt Kenma’s tongue push back velvety against his own. 

Kuroo couldn’t stop himself from drawing Kenma nearer to him, the hand at Kenma’s back pulling him further into his lap of its own accord. He continued his exploration of the inside of Kenma’s mouth with his tongue, and when their teeth clacked briefly, he felt Kenma’s mouth creep into a smile. Kuroo leaned away slightly, suddenly insecure, and then melted when Kenma pulled him by the neck back down into the kiss. 

Something in his chest purred when Kenma whimpered softly into Kuroo’s mouth. Feeling encouraged by the sound, he slipped his teeth over Kenma’s bottom lip, eliciting another glorious sound from deep in his best friend’s throat. Kuroo felt heat curl low in his gut, and then froze when he realized what that feeling meant. He jolted, opening his eyes to see Kenma staring at him in sheer horror. Kuroo lifted his hands and shoved Kenma off his lap, mind suddenly shouting with the fact that  _ oh my god, I have a boner.  _

On autopilot, Kuroo heard himself say in a low voice, “It’s only natural, it’s not because of you.”  _ Liar,  _ his evil brain argued. 

“Of course.” Kenma said stiffly.  _ He thinks I’m disgusting. He felt it, and he’s going to hate me now.  _ Kuroo wanted to climb up onto the roof of Tanaka’s house and launch himself off of it.

Unhelpfully, Oikawa shrieked, “OH MY GOD! Kuroo, did you get a BONER?” Kuroo dropped his head into his hands. “Shut the fuck up, Oikawa.” His reply was muffled. “You’re up next.” 

He winced when Tanaka crowed, “HAH! Kuroo got a big gay boner for Kenma!”  _ He’s got that right _ , Kuroo thought resignedly. All the fight left his body, and he just wanted to be left alone to die, friendless and embarrassed. He couldn’t let it show, on the off-chance Kenma didn’t hate him yet, so he snarled, “I was kissing someone who was straddling me. It’s a normal reaction. Everyone shut up. Oikawa, truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

Kuroo dragged his hands away from his face, pinching his cheeks as he went. As much as he wanted to die, he knew that acting cowardly would only make things worse, so he put on a vaguely annoyed but overall calm face to give Oikawa his dare. “I dare you to confess to whoever you’re in love with.” A safe bet, as dares go. He figured Oikawa would embarrass himself enough to take the attention away from him and Kenma, and then later Kuroo could slink off to drink himself sick and pass out in the bathroom. 

After sitting painfully through the last part of Truth or Dare, which seemed to drag on forever, Kuroo let himself be pulled to standing by Bokuto, who immediately began dragging him back into the house. He followed, zombie-like, as Bokuto led him to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of tequila with one hand, and then yanked him into a bathroom. He locked the door behind him, flicked off the cap, and handed it wordlessly to Kuroo.

_ Good ol’ Bo,  _ Kuroo thought gratefully. “Thanks, buddy.” He tiredly took a swig, sitting down on the closed toilet. Bokuto sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, and gestured for Kuroo to pass him the bottle. He sipped from it, and then returned it to Kuroo. They drank in silence for a moment, and then Bokuto said, “What a fuckin’ night, bro.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

Silence again. Kuroo sighed, and glared at the bottle in his hands. “Bo, I got something to tell you.”

Bokuto nodded, indicating for Kuroo to continue. Everyone thought he was so loud, but he was a good listener when the time was right, Kuroo observed. “I think I might be in love with Kenma.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gay?”

“Dunno.” Kuroo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s just Kenma.”

“Kenma-sexual, then.” 

Kuroo laughed in spite of himself, a bitter smile ghosting across his face. “Something like that.”

Bokuto tipped his head back, and it made a thunk sound as it hit the wall. He growled nonverbally, and Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “You good? I thought I was supposed to be the angsty one here.”

“How do you know you’re in love with Kenma?”

Kuroo blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. “God, bro, I just. He’s so fuckin’ cute. I want to protect him. He’s so smart, and he makes me feel, I don’t know, like a man or something. Like I’m worth something.” He paused, thinking about the way his chest had seized earlier upon seeing Akaashi and Kenma dancing together. “And I get jealous, seeing him with anyone else. Like I wanna keep him all to myself.”

Bokuto hummed, eyebrows furrowed. “Like with Akaashi tonight?”

“Yeah. Shit, Bo. I know he’s your best friend. But I wanted to fucking kill him tonight.”

“Me too.” Kuroo jerked, shooting a surprised look at Bokuto. “No, not like that. I wanted to kill Kenma.” Kuroo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Bo, I just got done telling you I love him, and now you wanna-”

“NO! I meant like, I got jealous too! Of Kenma!”

_ Ohhh.  _ Kuroo shoved the bottle toward Bokuto. “Because he was dancing with Akaashi.”

Bokuto nodded, ears red. 

“Bo, do you like Akaashi? Like that?”

He shrugged, blush spreading to his cheeks and down his neck. “I don’t know, I never thought about it before. But tonight, I felt so rotten seeing him touch Kenma. I didn’t like it. I don’t want him to touch anyone but me. And hearing you talk about how you feel… Sounds like I might feel kinda the same way, about ‘Kaashi.”

“Well. Shit.” He echoed Bokuto’s earlier sentiment.

Bokuto laughed, and it sounded empty. “Guess we’re both fucked, then.”

“You know what they say.”

“What?” 

“Misery loves company.”

Kuroo slid down the floor, thighs pushed up against Bokuto’s. He leaned on his friend’s shoulder, and breathed through his nose. The bathroom smelled like alcohol, and vaguely of vomit. Bokuto groaned softly. 

“You sleeping here?”

“Yeah. You?”

Kuroo waved his phone, where a text from Kenma read, ‘sleeping here, Akaashi says it’s fine’. “Guess so.”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto started, then trailed off. Kuroo nudged him. “I don’t want to know the answer to this question, but d’you think Kenma and Akaashi are…”

Kuroo grimaced. “Dunno. I have to think one of them would’ve told us, though.”

“Maybe it just started tonight.”

“Maybe.”

They fell quiet, both looking at the wall and thinking pathetic thoughts. “I hope not.” Bokuto said, voicing Kuroo’s thoughts exactly. 

Kuroo grunted in agreement, and then stood up. He extended a hand down to Bokuto, and pulled him upright. “Let’s go find them, and go the fuck to sleep.”   
  
“Tonight was a fuckin’ mess, huh?”

“You can say that again.”

“Tonight was a fuckin’ mess.” Kuroo laughed as they headed up the stairs. By then, the house was empty, cups scattered across the floor. A couple people were passed out on the couch, but Kuroo knew there were futons upstairs in the spare room. 

Kuroo paused at the doorway, squinting to make out shapes in the darkness. He saw Nishinoya’s streak of blond in the moonlight, snoring quietly on the futon closest to the window. On the opposite side of the room, one futon contained two bodies, pressed close in a spooning position. Kuroo’s heart clenched, and he desperately hoped that wasn’t Akaashi and Kenma. 

Bokuto edged toward that futon, peering into the two figures sleeping faces. He turned back toward Kuroo, giving him a thumbs up. “It’s Hinata and Kageyama,” he whispered. Kuroo directed his gaze toward the two remaining futons. Both were covered entirely by blankets, with body-shaped lumps hidden. 

Kuroo stepped toward the one closest to Hinata and Kageyama, tentatively lifting a corner of the blanket. He saw pale fingers at the edge of the mattress, too long and slender to be Kenma’s. Kenma had nice hands, but they were as small as the rest of his body. Kuroo gestured to Bokuto, beckoning him over. 

Bokuto shuffled over, sitting on the edge of the futon to pull off his pants and shirt.  _ We’re totally drunk, or Bo would never get into bed basically naked with Akaashi right now _ , Kuroo noted. He watched as Bokuto lifted the blanket all the way, paused to gaze fondly at Akaashi for a moment, and then slid in next to him, disappearing under the comforter. 

Kuroo unbuttoned his jeans, tugging them off by the ankles and wrenching his shirt over his head. He paused at the edge of the futon that surely held Kenma. He leaned down, and folded the edge of the blanket until he could see golden hair fanning across the pillow. Brushing a strand off of Kenma’s face, he dragged his finger down his best friend’s cheek, marveling at the softness and remembering the way he had touched him earlier. Except that time, his tongue had been in his mouth.

He blushed at the memory. Right at that moment, Kenma stirred, turning his head into Kuroo’s touch. Kuroo froze, not moving a muscle for fear of waking him up. But apparently, the damage was already done, because Kuroo felt Kenma’s fingers encircling his wrist, and then suddenly he was being pulled onto the futon. He braced himself with his other hand on the pillow, and before he could process what was happening he was laying on the mattress, Kenma’s head on his chest, tucked under his chin.  “Goodnight, Kuro.” Kenma said into his throat, and Kuroo swallowed roughly. Kenma’s hand was on his shoulder, and his leg was tucked between Kuroo’s. Kenma had to be half-asleep  _ and  _ still wasted, Kuroo reasoned. He decided to accept his good luck, and Kenma’s drunk cuddling, and allowed himself to drift into sleep, hand resting on the small of Kenma’s back and breathing in the smell of vanilla. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was soo much harder to write than Kenma's chapter. When I write Kenma I just write whatever I'd do, and it usually works out. But I'm nothing like Kuroo, so this was tough. I tried to focus on how I think he really is, which is confident in every context except Kenma. Weeeew I love them so much...
> 
> Calpico and vodka really is a great drink, btw. And the pianist boss in Luigis Mansion 3 is super annoying to beat LOL. 
> 
> ALSO, there's a little reference to skittidye's fantastic fic "bell, hook, and candle" in here. one of my favorite characterizations of kenma, like, ever. its a great fic overall everyone needs to read it. go read it.


	3. Tsukishima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki-boo's POV.

There was a piece of lint stuck to his sheet. Kei picked at it with a fingernail, dislodging it and flicking it toward the wall. He was laying diagonally across his bed, head dangling off the side. It was a Tuesday night, and he was ignoring his math homework in favor of doing absolutely nothing.

He didn’t even hate math all that much. It came easily to him, as most things did, and the methodical formulas and steps were comforting. He was certainly better at it than Yamaguchi, who felt about math the same way most people felt about spiders, or any other sort of creepy crawly. Fearful and a little disgusted. Kei swore that Yamaguchi had shuddered earlier that afternoon when he had turned in his seat to pass the math homework back to him. 

Such was the reason that Yamaguchi was likely to arrive sometime in the next half hour, knocking cautiously on Kei’s door with a soft, “Tsukki?” and clutching the dreaded homework in his hand. So maybe Kei wasn’t ignoring math homework for nothing, but rather he was ignoring it right now, so that he could do it with Yamaguchi later.

If he did it now, he’d basically have to do it twice, because walking Yamaguchi through every single problem was just as tedious as doing it himself. Might as well wait. 

He could, hypothetically, tell Yamaguchi to go ask someone else for help.  _ Yachi _ , Kei’s brain offered. The blonde girl was always blushing and stuttering in Yamaguchi’s presence. She’d be overjoyed to help him with linear equations. She’d definitely be Yamaguchi’s first choice after Kei, too, because Hinata and Kageyama were both completely hopeless in math. 

If Kei didn’t help Yamaguchi, then Yachi would. And however annoying it was to painstakingly explain the solutions to his friend, the thought of Yachi leaning in over Yamaguchi’s shoulder to show him how to do a problem made Kei’s stomach twist. Better to do it himself, and avoid that uncomfortable feeling, and therefore avoid confronting the reason behind that uncomfortable feeling. 

As if he’d been summoned, Yamaguchi chose that moment to shake Kei out of his thoughts by knocking gently on his bedroom door. Like clockwork, the knock was followed by, “Tsukki? Can you help me with the math homework? Your mom let me in.”

Kei sat up and adjusted his glasses. Wordlessly, he patted the spot on the bed next to him, and Yamaguchi padded on socked feet from the doorway to sit. “Thanks, Tsukki! It’s extra hard this time. I don’t understand any of it.”

Kei sighed. “Yamaguchi. It’s not all that different from last week’s homework.”

“Well, last week’s homework was hard too!” Yamaguchi looked at him imploringly from under thick lashes. He was close enough that Kei could count every single freckle that scattered across his nose and cheeks. It was something he’d done a hundred times. He secretly believed that Yamaguchi’s freckles looked like stars. Like constellations.

He never got sick of looking at them.

“Let me get mine, I haven’t started it yet.” Kei leaned down to yank his backpack out from where it lay under his bed, discarded as soon as he’d arrived home from school. His math homework was in a red folder. Since middle school, he’d color coded his classes. It helped him feel like he had his life together.

The late afternoon slipped into evening, shadows lengthening along his bedroom wall as Kei walked his best friend through the complexities of linear equations. They wrapped up the assignment just before dinner, and Kei walked Yamaguchi back downstairs to say goodbye to his family and go back to his own house to eat. 

“Tadashi! You can stay for dinner, if you’d like!”

“Thank you, Obasan. But my mom is making yakisoba! I promised her I’d go home.”

“Alright. Tell her I said hello!”

“Will do. Bye, Obasan. Bye, Tsukki! See you tomorrow morning!”

Kei waved him out the door, and then sat down heavily at the dinner table. Akiteru snorted, and reached out to ruffle his hair. Kei ducked away from his hand, and slumped in his chair. His mother ladled soup into the bowl in front of him. “Kei. How was your day today?”

“Fine.”

“Did anything interesting happen?”

“Nope.” He extended the vowel. 

“Akiteru, what about you?”

Kei’s older brother slurped his soup noisily. “Nah. Hey, Kei. Saeko told me she’s having a party this weekend for you little nerds. Are you going?”

Tanaka had mentioned something along those lines at practice that morning, but Kei had been too tired to respond at the time. “Don’t know yet.”

“I bet you’ll go if Yamaguchi does.” Akiteru wore a shit-eating grin, a green onion at the corner of his mouth. Kei stared blankly back at him, and continued eating his soup without replying. “I might go, and help Saeko supervise you kiddos.”

“Please don’t.”

“C’mon, you don’t want to party with your big bro?”

“I’ll pass.”

They continued to eat in silence, save for the sounds of Akiteru’s slurping. Once finished, Kei rose, brought his bowl to the sink, and headed back upstairs. “Going to finish homework and then go to bed.” He called over his shoulder. 

“Okay, goodnight Kei!” His mother shouted in response.

In truth, he didn’t have any homework other than the math that he had already finished with Yamaguchi. But sitting alone in his bedroom was better than sitting on the couch with Akiteru, pretending to care about whatever TV show his brother chose. He didn’t necessarily hate Akiteru, but gone were the days of Kei’s idolization of him. In Kei’s opinion, Akiteru was kind of a loser now, a high school graduate who lived at home, working at a convenience store and hanging out with his younger brother’s friends. 

Kei seriously hoped Akiteru wouldn’t actually go to the party that weekend. As much as he hated to admit it, his brother had been right that Kei would go if Yamaguchi wanted to, and chances were Yamaguchi would want to. So Kei probably would end up standing uncomfortably in some corner at Tanaka’s house, nursing a drink he didn’t like, just because he never could seem to say no to Yamaguchi.

Not about math homework, and not about a party. 

Just then, his phone chimed. It was a text from, of course, Yamaguchi.  _ Hey, Tsukki! I meant to ask you earlier but I forgot. Do you wanna go to that party that Tanaka is having? _

Kei brought his hand to his forehead to rub it aggressively. He seriously needed to stop thinking about things, it seemed like he was manifesting whatever he pondered for more than ten seconds. He quickly typed out a noncommittal reply.  _ If you want to. _ If Hinata and Kageyama ever found out he was such a pushover, he’d never hear the end of it. 

_ I do want to! Yay, Tsukki. It’ll be fun! _ Kei huffed. It was highly unlikely that this party would be anything but a nuisance. But he would go, because. Well. Yachi likely wouldn’t be there, so he couldn’t give himself the same excuse as he had for the homework. He would go because of Yamaguchi.

And he stubbornly would not analyze that.

Because there was nothing to analyze.

Kei exhaled loudly through his nose. Yamaguchi had been in his life since elementary school, when Kei had been sitting in the sandbox, aimlessly filling a bucket with sand only to dump it out and start over, when he heard shouts from across the playground. He’d gotten up out of some combination of boredom and curiosity, and stalked over to where three boys from the other class were kicking a hunched over figure. The figure turned out to be an impossibly small boy, looking way too young for fourth grade, and crying as the boys teased him about the freckles dotting his face.

They’d been calling him names, taunting him for the marks on his face, and Kei remembered feeling vaguely annoyed. He hadn’t understood why on Earth these boys cared that the kid on the ground had freckles. It wasn’t like he’d chosen to have them. And, as Kei squinted down at the crying boy, he decided that the freckles weren’t even that bad. They were kind of… cute. 

So Kei, already tall for his age, had grabbed one of the offending boys by the back of his shirt collar and yanked him back, earning him the attention of the whole group. “Hey.” He’d said in a low, deadpan voice, as low as a fourth grader’s voice could be. “Leave him alone. Go away.” He’d growled slightly on the last word, hoping that the emphasis would get his message across so he wouldn’t have to say anything else. 

The boy whose collar he was holding was frozen, and the other two’s faces blanched at his words. One of them, the apparent ringleader, kicked the ground one more time, scuffing his shoe along the dirt, and shrugged. “Whatever, losers.” He’d turned and walked away, and Kei released the boy’s shirt and let him scamper off after his dumb friends. Once they were out of sight, around the corner of the elementary school building, he’d looked down at the boy who was still cowering on the ground. 

Kei didn’t really have friends. He was quiet, and preferred his own company to that of the rowdy boys his age. So it was a surprise to even himself when he extended his palm out to the small boy, saying, “Are you okay?” and pulling him upright when he took the offered hand. 

“Yeah, I’m okay! Thank you. What’s your name? I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Kei blinked, amazed that the boy —Yamaguchi, apparently— had seemed to so quickly recover from his bullies’ assault of five seconds ago. The kid in front of him had greenish, messy hair that stuck up in weird tufts, and of course, freckles all across his small, cheeky face. A face that was inexplicably wearing a huge smile. 

  
“I’m Tsukishima Kei.”

“You’re really cool for saving me like that. Like a superhero! Tsukki, my superhero. Can I call you Tsukki?”

  
Kei was nothing short of dumbfounded. This boy was certainly very odd, with his unique hair and freckles and strange, happy energy despite literally having been beat up moments ago. Perplexed and at a loss for words, Kei just nodded. Years later he would wonder what possessed him to agree to such a nickname. 

“Awesome! Wanna play together, Tsukki?” Belatedly, Kei realized that Yamaguchi was still holding his hand, small, dirty fingers clutched tightly around his wrist. He glanced down at the point of contact, brain still whirring to try and figure out  _ what was happening _ , and then all of the sudden he was being pulled forward back toward the sandbox. 

And the rest was history.

From that day on, Yamaguchi had stuck to Tsukki’s side like some sort of fungus, or invasive mollusk species. He was just everywhere; popping up in front of him outside his classroom, on the playground, outside his house as soon as Yamaguchi learned that they only lived a few streets apart. And because he didn’t really know what else to do, Kei let him.

Over the years, Yamaguchi had become Kei’s favorite person. His closest and really, his only friend. Yamaguchi had a bunch of annoying habits, like picking at his nails and throwing the small bits of skin wherever, and saying Kei’s nickname over and over like it was candy in his mouth,  _ Tsukki, Tsukki, Tsukki.  _ But he also knew things about Kei that no one else did, like what flavor of popsicle he preferred, and that he was scared of thunderstorms. 

Another thing that Kei appreciated about Yamaguchi, perhaps the thing that he appreciated the most, was that Yamaguchi didn’t expect much from him. He just let Kei be, allowed him to be stoic and silent most days, and let him info-dump about his various interests when he was feeling like it. When Kei was callous and teasing to Hinata and Kageyama, Yamaguchi didn’t chastise him condescendingly as many would have, but instead laughed along good-naturedly, knowing there was no bite behind Kei’s blunt tone. 

Finally, Yamaguchi never, ever lied to him. Kei valued honesty above all else, probably because of how severely Akiteru had betrayed his trust in middle school. He hated liars, and he hated being lied to. Somehow, without having to be explicitly told, Yamaguchi knew this, and so he never lied to him, not even small white lies. He had been there when Kei had discovered his brother’s lie, so he never ever made the same mistake with his best friend.

It had caused a few uncomfortable situations, such as when Kei had called Yamaguchi late one night to ask him a question about some TV show they were both watching. Yamaguchi had picked up the phone breathing weirdly, and Kei had asked him what he had been doing, hoping that he hadn’t interrupted anything important. He wasn’t expecting Yamaguchi to reply “Sorry, Tsukki. I was jacking off.” Without any hesitation. Kei had choked, garbled a “It’s fine, call you later,” and promptly hung up.

Kei appreciated Yamaguchi’s honesty, more than he would ever know, but sometimes he wished he had a little more tact. 

Overall, they had a good thing going. Yamaguchi understood Kei, and most days Kei thought he did a pretty decent job of being a good friend in return. He helped with Yamaguchi’s homework, shared interests with him, they played volleyball together, and hung out on the weekends, watching movies and eating junk food. It was nice. Kei didn’t need anything else, or anyone else. 

So maybe that was why Kei would go to the party. Because Yamaguchi was the best and most important thing in his life, and he’d (although he’d never admit it aloud) do just about anything for him.

Friday rolled around, and just before the party was supposed to begin, Kei was sitting on Yamaguchi’s bedroom floor. He was half-watching as Yamaguchi twisted in front of his mirror in the third outfit he’d tried on in the past twenty minutes. “Yamaguchi. It looks fine. Let’s go.”

“But, Tsukki! I wore this to the movie theater last weekend. Isn’t it bad to wear the same thing to a party that you’d wear to a movie theater?”

  
“How would I know? Who even cares?”

“I do! It’s a party, Tsukki! People look nice at parties.”

“It’s a volleyball party.” Kei paused, thinking for a moment. His tongue felt slightly bitter in his mouth. “Yachi isn’t even going to be here.”

Yamaguchi caught his eye in the mirror, tilting his head a bit. “I didn’t ask if Yachi was going to be there. I know she won’t.”

“‘Was just saying, since you’re so concerned about how you look. She won’t be there, so you don’t have to worry about looking nice for her.” Kei broke his gaze, scrubbing his hand along the carpet, feeling the friction warming his palm. “I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her! Tsukki, I don’t.” Kei looked up again, meeting his eyes once more. There was something urgent in Yamaguchi’s expression. “I really don’t. I would tell you.”

Kei felt something unaddressed loosen in his chest. Yamaguchi wasn’t lying, of course. “Hm. Well, I think she likes you.”

“W-what? She likes ME? Tsukki, are you sure?” Yamaguchi was pulling his shirt over his head, and his elbows were all caught up in the fabric, nose barely peeking over the edge of his collar. He struggled for a few moments more, clearly stuck in the offending tee, until Kei took pity on him and rose. He stepped forward, grasping the edges of the shirt, and pulled it firmly up over Yamaguchi’s head. When he dropped it, Yamaguchi was looking up at him, and there was a faint flush underneath all those freckles. “Does she really like me?”

“I think so. Don’t go getting a big head over it.” Yamaguchi had an eyelash on his cheek. “Hold still.” Kei placed one steadying hand on the side of Yamaguchi’s head, feeling his soft hair sifting through his fingers. He used his free thumb to gently swipe under Yamaguchi’s left eye, dislodging the stray lash. “Make a wish.” He held it up in front of Yamaguchi’s nose, who nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

Kei smiled, just a little, as Yamaguchi squeezed his eyes shut and blew, sending the eyelash fluttering away. “Thanks, Tsukki.”

“What’d you wish for?”

Yamaguchi paused. “That Yachi would stop liking me.”

“...Why?”

“Well, I don’t like her back. So it’s a little sad for her, right? She’s better off liking someone who likes her too.” Kei shook his head fondly. It was just like Yamaguchi to spend his wish on someone else’s happiness. “What about this shirt?”

The shirt that Yamaguchi was holding was one that Kei didn’t ever remember seeing him wear before. It was a light purple color, with a bit of scoop neck. Kei didn’t know anything about clothes, but it seemed fashionable. “Looks good to me. Where’d you get it?” 

“My cousin sent it to me in the mail. She lives in Tokyo, and she knows a lot about clothes and stuff.” Yamaguchi peered down at the shirt. “It’s a little bold, though.”

“It’s a party. Might as well.”

Yamaguchi nodded, pulled the shirt off the hanger and quickly over his head. Paired with black jeans, he really did look like some sort of cool city kid. It made Kei a little uneasy, but he pushed the feeling down. “Ready?”   


“Yeah, Tsukki!”   


The entrance to the Tanaka household was crowded, likely because Kei and Yamaguchi were about a half hour late. Teenage boys were everywhere, and Kei felt a mix of disdain and discomfort. He enjoyed the presence of a few of the guys on the volleyball team, tolerated more than half, and actively disliked the remaining few. His feelings about the boys on Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Aoba Johsai tended more toward dislike. There wasn’t a lot for Kei to be thrilled about at this party.

Yamaguchi, on the other hand, looked ecstatic. “Wow. There are a lot of people here.” He said, turning to Kei with a bright smile and wide eyes. “I’ve never been to a real party before.”

Kei hadn’t either, but he’d heard plenty of stories from Akiteru, mostly involving alcohol, girls, and vomiting, three things that didn’t exactly have him shaking with anticipation. Still, he allowed a small smile, for Yamaguchi’s sake more than anything else. “Me either.”

“Wanna get drinks?”

He nodded, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. Through Akiteru, he’d had a beer or two before, but he’d never drank enough to feel anything from it. He didn’t really want tonight to be any different, either. Alcohol made people stupid, and reckless. But Kei was sure Yamaguchi would indulge, as excited as he was about the novelty of it all, so he had long ago resigned himself to the role of babysitter for the night.

They headed further into the house, but before they could make it too far past the doorway they were intercepted by a bouncing Hinata. His orange hair was fluffed up ridiculously, and combined with his ruddy cheeks, he made quite the sight. “Tsukishima! Yamaguchi! Oh man, I am so glad you guys made it! I did a shot with Saeko. And then I did two more with Kageyama. I feel super weird. It’s great!” 

Kei rolled his eyes at his teammates babbling. “Alright, calm down. Where’s the drinks?”

Hinata continued bouncing on his heels, and swaying slightly from side to side. Kageyama loomed behind him, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere, and glowered at Kei. There was no real force behind gaze, though, because his cheeks were just as red and sticky-looking as Hinata. Kei heard Yamaguchi giggle slightly. “You guys look trashed.”

“It’s a PARTY, Yamaguchi! You better drink too!” 

“I will! But jeez. Maybe not as much as you guys.”

“Definitely not.” Kei looked down over his glasses at Hinata. “We aren’t idiots. Unlike some people.”

Hinata poked his chest, all up in Kei’s personal space until Kageyama pulled him back by his shirt. “Live a little! Boringshima!” 

Kei released a long suffering sigh. “Hinata. I asked you where the drinks are.”

“Oh! They’re in the kitchen.” Kei stalked off, stepping around Hinata and Kageyama and leaving Yamaguchi to presumably thank them for the guidance and then follow him. 

In the kitchen, Nishinoya stood by the sink, ladling something from a large bowl into red plastic cups. He looked up when Kei entered, giving him a good-natured grin. “Yo! Tsukishima! Won’t lie man, I wasn’t sure you’d show tonight.” He paused, looking over Kei’s shoulder to where Yamaguchi was no doubt entering the room. “Hey, Yamaguchi. I’m drinking this punch stuff Tanaka made earlier. You guys want some?”

Kei watched as Yamaguchi sidled by him to approach the bowl and peer into it suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

Nishinoya laughed, and patted Yamaguchi on the back. Kei jolted a bit in place as though he was the one who’d been touched. “Who cares, dude? Alcohol, that’s all you need to know.”

Yamaguchi continued eyeing the concoction skeptically, and then pulled himself back upright to give Nishinoya an acquiescent shrug. “Sure.” Nishinoya whooped and grabbed two cups, filling them nearly to the brim with the unidentified pink liquid. He handed the first to Yamaguchi, who immediately put his lips to the edge, and the second to Kei, who watched Yamaguchi’s reaction to the first taste of the beverage.

“Mmm. S’not bad, thanks, Noya!”

Nishinoya chortled. “Not me, thank Tanaka. Or Saeko, she bought everything. I’m gonna go find whoever’s on AUX and kick their ass. Someone was playing Lady Gaga earlier.” He snorted derisively and left the kitchen. 

Kei stared down into his cup. He sincerely did not want to get drunk tonight, he was committed to remaining mostly sober in order to supervise his best friend. “I wish I knew how much alcohol was in this.”

“Tsukki, c’mon. I don’t wanna say Hinata’s right, but maybe you should live a little.” Kei fixed him with a blank, unamused expression, causing Yamaguchi to giggle and turn his head away. “It can’t possibly be that much alcohol, it’s just one cup. And it really doesn’t taste that bad, I promise.”

Kei raised the cup to his mouth, and took a small first sip. Yamaguchi watched him expectantly. “Well?”

“It’s fine.”

“Told you, Tsukki!” Kei shook his head at Yamaguchi’s triumphant tone. Ever since they were little, Yamaguchi always considered it to be a personal victory whenever he convinced Kei to do something or try something. Considering Yamaguchi was about the only person on the planet capable of swaying him, Kei privately thought maybe Yamaguchi was right to be so proud of himself.

Forty five minutes later found Kei sipping his drink, leaning against the wall and semi-engaging in a conversation with Yamaguchi, Asahi, and Iwaizumi Hajime, of all people. It felt a bit surreal, watching Yamaguchi speak animatedly with Aoba Johsai’s ace about monster movies, of all things, while he and Asahi occasionally offered hums of approval and short opinions. Apparently, Iwaizumi was super into Godzilla, although Kei had no idea how the topic had even come up. 

“Tsukki likes dinosaurs, a lot. Right, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi’s eyes shone as he looked hopefully into Kei’s face, which was involuntarily blushing at being outed as a nerd. 

“Godzilla isn’t a real dinosaur, though.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of like a dinosaur!”

“What kinds of dinosaurs?” Iwaizumi interjected good-naturedly. He was buff, and a little scary looking, but Kei figured he must be some sort of saint underneath all that to be as close as he was with Oikawa. Clearly, he was not at all self-conscious either. Buff, saintly, and confident. Kei felt a little inferior. The way Yamaguchi was gazing at Iwaizumi with sheer adoration wasn’t helping. 

“Well, I think brontosaurus are cool.”

Iwaizumi nodded in solemn approval. “Gentle giants.”

“Just like Asahi!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, prompting their upperclassman to laugh nervously, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Good one, Yamaguchi. Guess I am.”

Kei was more than a little impressed at how at ease Yamaguchi seemed to be in the context of the party. He wasn’t sure if it was as a result of the mostly-gone drink in his best friend’s hand or if Yamaguchi was always this talkative.  _ Must be the drink,  _ he decided. 

The floorboards of the Tanaka’s living room were sticky, covered in a sheen of spilled drinks and whatever else. The bottom of Kei’s left shoe stuck to the stickiness, and he wiggled it around a bit to loosen it. However nice Iwaizumi was, Kei wasn’t really interested in their conversation. He had selfishly wished Yamaguchi would pay exclusive attention to him tonight. Something about Yamaguchi’s tone throughout this discussion made him uncomfortable.

Maybe because he had thought Yamaguchi was only ever this open with Kei, just as Kei was only ever open with him. 

He pushed the thought aside.  _ Don’t be childish,  _ he chastised himself. It was fine that Yamaguchi’s laughs came as easily here as they did in the sacred space of Kei’s bedroom. It was fine. 

It was never outward, but Kei knew deep down that he was more than a little possessive over Yamaguchi. One might expect the opposite, given that Kei had been the one to “save” Yamaguchi all those years ago, but Kei always felt like the clingy one. He just didn’t like or trust anyone else, not the same way he liked and trusted Yamaguchi. A silent, unspoken fear had always lived inside him, that one day maybe Yamaguchi would realize that Kei’s bravery and kindness on the playground in fourth grade was a fluke. He’d realize that other people were funnier, nicer, less guarded, and he’d leave Kei alone with his headphones and his dinosaurs.

That fear probably contributed more than Kei was willing to admit to his inability to ever say no to Yamaguchi. He was quietly scared to mess up, to ruin this precious thing he had, and so he did his best to never give Yamaguchi a reason to leave. 

Although Kei knew that his abrasiveness and introversion were reason enough, he didn’t want to add to the pile of reasons for why he didn’t deserve to be Yamaguchi’s friend. 

Kei registered a tugging at his shirt sleeve. “Hey, Tsukki! Iwaizumi is gonna show me how to take shots. Wanna come?”

Kei grimaced. “I’ll go with you, but I’m not taking any shots.” 

Yamaguchi frowned, the skin around his lips wrinkling unattractively. Kei hated when he frowned. He looked much more like himself with a smile on his face. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to get drunk.”

“Why not?”

“You sound like a broken record.” Kei flicked Yamaguchi’s nose.

“Tsukkiiiii! Answer the question!”

“Because someone’s gotta watch you and make sure you get home safe.”

Yamaguchi’s face cleared. “Oh. I didn’t think of that. So you’re not drinking ‘cause of me?”

“I’m not drinking because I’m responsible, Yamaguchi.”

“Okay, Tsukki. If you say so. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

If Kei did decide to drink, then the inevitable conclusion of the evening would be that Akiteru would come pick them up, and aside from his general disinterest in alcohol, Kei was determined to avoid his brother tonight. Thankfully, Yamaguchi seemed to accept, shrugging and turning to continue talking to Iwaizumi. Kei exhaled. He really was okay with babysitting a drunk Yamaguchi, but he hoped he didn’t get too messy. He seriously did not want to deal with any tears or vomit later.

Iwaizumi tapped him on the shoulder. “You sure you don’t want any shots? You look a little tense, Tsukishima.” Kei stared back, careful to keep his face expressionless.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright.” Much to Kei’s displeasure, Iwaizumi clapped Yamaguchi on the shoulder and began leading him back toward the kitchen, leaving Kei to trail behind them.

According to Iwaizumi, the best alcohol for shots was tequila. Yamaguchi obviously didn’t have enough prior knowledge to have an opinion, so he and Kei just watched as Iwaizumi filled up what looked to Kei like way too many shot glasses with a clear liquid.

It looked innocent enough, like water, but Yamaguchi’s choking and coughing after downing the first one told Kei that it definitely didn’t taste like water. “You okay?” He asked Yamaguchi, a little gruffly. He regretted agreeing to this whole thing; the situation seemed to be quickly spiraling out of his control. Iwaizumi laughed, and thumped Yamaguchi on the back. Kei gritted his teeth.

“He’s alright. Congrats on your first shot, Yamaguchi. You’re a big boy now.” He laughed again, deep and throaty. Yamaguchi gave a watery grin.

“I’m okay, Tsukki! It wasn’t that bad, just surprised me. Let’s do another!”

Iwaizumi wordlessly handed him another, they clinked them together, and then Kei watched the movements of Yamaguchi’s throat as he swallowed the second shot. His own mouth felt dry, all of the sudden. This one seemed to go down a bit easier than the first, because Yamaguchi only gasped and shook his head a bit. Iwaizumi high fived him. Kei felt distinctly uncomfortable. “Yamaguchi, I’m going to the bathroom. You okay here for a bit?”

“Yeah, Tsukki! I’ve got Iwaizumi.” He shot a huge smile at his apparent new best friend. Iwaizumi bumped his shoulder and smiled back. “We’re good, Tsukishima.”

Kei set his almost empty cup down on the counter and stepped out of the kitchen, in the direction of the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he could hear Iwaizumi say in what he probably thought was a quiet voice, “Wow, he sure is protective over you, huh.”

“Hah! He’s not protective, he just hates, like, everything. We’ve been friends forever. He probably doesn’t want to be here, but he’s here because of me. I’d guess he’s hovering because he’s hoping I’ll want to leave.” Kei felt his stomach drop. He made it to the bathroom, locked the door, and slammed his hands heavily on either side of the sink.

_ F _ _ uck _ . 

Kei felt gross. He knew he was hovering, Yamaguchi was right, and he was also right that he did want to leave. But he was wrong that Kei hated everything. That was the whole problem. He didn’t hate Yamaguchi. He very much did not hate Yamaguchi. He liked Yamaguchi, and he hated everything else. He hated everything else that made Yamaguchi laugh and smile that wasn’t him. 

Like Iwaizumi, who clearly thought Kei was a loser, but thought Yamaguchi was a great, chill guy.  _ Because he is _ , he thought miserably. Everyone thought Kei was mean and uptight, rude on his best days and downright unapproachable on his worst ones. Everyone thought that, except Yamaguchi. For some reason.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, and met his own eyes in the mirror. He saw a pale, gangly, tired boy, awkward looking with his too-long fingers and glasses. There were purple bags under his eyes, and a pimple to the right of his nose. His hair stuck up from his hands running through it, and it was too short, too blond, boring, ugly, not good enough. 

Kei had never, ever in his life expressed his insecurities to anyone. He kept them locked in his chest, and released the pent up tension from keeping them inside in the form of barbs, harsh words aimed outward. He tore down easy targets, like Hinata and Kageyama, to avoid confronting his own crippling mediocrity. Mocking them, looking down on them, made him feel like he had some sense of power, but only for a second. 

Afterwards, once the words had left his mouth, he always felt hollow. Like a lie.

He fucking hated lies. 

And yet somehow, he still had Yamaguchi. With his freckles, and his eyes like twin gemstones, and the softness of his hair. When Kei was with Yamaguchi, the moments were full of easy smiles, inside jokes and giggles behind hands, and the comfort of sharing space with someone who had known him for more years than he’d been alive. 

But Kei knew the impossibility of the situation. No matter how many years passed, how many times Yamaguchi showed him that he’d choose him every time, Kei knew that he was living on borrowed time. Someday, probably soon, Yamaguchi’s eyes would truly open, and he would see Kei for what he was. Boring, average, unlikeable, unpleasant.

He’d find someone new, someone kind and good.  _ Like Iwaizumi.  _ And Kei would be left, empty as he’d ever been and all alone. 

Kei swore. He knew he was being annoying, following Yamaguchi around tonight and acting like he was above drinking alcohol.  _ So fucking annoying _ , he thought to himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said to his reflection. 

Yamaguchi would be better off if Kei just left him alone. “We’re good, Tsukishima.” Iwaizumi had said.  _ Good without you _ , had been unspoken.

Kei turned on the sink, splashing his face with water and rubbing at his eyes until sparks danced behind his eyelids. His mind was made up. He’d find some quiet corner, leave Yamaguchi alone, and text him in like an hour to find him when he was ready to go. No less than an hour, so he didn’t feel rushed. Clearly, Yamaguchi already knew that he was waiting on him to leave, so Kei would make sure he didn’t feel pressured into doing so. 

He’d been in the bathroom, having his stupid little pity party, for nearly fifteen minutes now. Only forty five more minutes to kill.

Kei took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, then spun to exit the bathroom. Unlocking the door, he stepped out, and nearly collided with Iwaizumi.  _ Of course.  _ “Whoa, sorry, man. You were in there a long time, I was just about to knock and check on you.” Iwaizumi’s hands were up, palms were facing him, in the universal gesture of  _ my bad. _

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You seemed kinda off in the kitchen.” Iwaizumi’s expression was stern, but concerned somehow.

“Iwaizumi. I’m fine.” 

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, studied him for a moment. “Alright. Well, I was gonna go sit in the back room, maybe play some video games. I need a breather. You wanna come?”

“Where’s Yamaguchi?”

“He’s dancing with Hinata, I think. We took two more shots, but they were mostly water after the first two. He’s fine.” Iwaizumi gave him a knowing smirk, causing Kei to flinch. Kei cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his jean pockets, looking down. There was a bit of an awkward pause, until Iwaizumi restated his previous offer. “So. Video games?”

Kei couldn’t think of a single person he’d wouldn’t rather spend time with right now, but he also couldn’t come up with a good excuse. Or anything better to do. “Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. It’s over there.” He stuck a thumb over his shoulder. Kei stared back at him. “Right. Just follow me.” He turned, heading in the general direction toward which he’d pointed. 

The back room was cozy, with two comfortable-looking couches facing a large, flat-screen TV. Iwaizumi plopped down on the one furthest from the door, so Kei gingerly sat on the other. Iwaizumi tossed him a blue Nintendo Switch controller. “Looks like someone’s been playing Smash. Is that good with you?”

“Sure.” Kei had played Smash a handful of times with Yamaguchi, Hinata, and Kageyama. It was fun enough, but he wasn’t super into video games, generally speaking. He preferred movies and books. Still, when Iwaizumi brought up the character selection screen, he chose Yoshi.

They played in silence for several long minutes. Kei felt his discomfort from earlier across his shoulder blades like a physical ache, but the rhythmic movements and repetitive sequences of the game began to soothe him slowly. He felt the tension slowly start to seep out of his bones, and relaxed into the couch.

Iwaizumi broke the silence after another few minutes had passed. “Hey, so. You and Yamaguchi.” Kei didn’t say anything, but he felt his jaw tighten. At his silence, Iwaizumi continued. “You guys seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends since elementary school.”

“How’d you meet? Same class, or whatever?”

“Some kids were bullying him. I stopped them.”

Iwaizumi hummed, a nonverbal expression of approval, and then fell silent once more. He seemed to be thinking about something. He voiced his thoughts a few moments later, saying, “You know Oikawa?”

“Yeah. Your setter.”

Iwaizumi smiled nearly imperceptibly. “Yup. We met in elementary school, too.”

Kei wasn’t sure what Iwaizumi expected him to say, so he just nodded. He knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of carrying on the conversation, but he also didn’t understand why they needed to talk in the first place. Abruptly, Iwaizumi carried on. “I get it, you know.”

Kei suddenly felt exposed. “Get what.” He said stiffly.

“The whole worrying thing.” He paused the game, and turned to face Kei. Kei kept staring straight ahead. “Oikawa’s my best friend. I’d never say it to him, but he’s my favorite part of my life.” He sighed roughly, as though it hurt him to say this. “Sometimes it feels like if I close my eyes too long, or look away, he’ll disappear. He’s larger than life, you know. Everyone loves him. Especially girls,” He paused to shake his head. “But he hangs out with me. Some days it feels too good to be true. Even if he is a pain in the ass.” 

Kei thought back to hours spent on math homework, shoulders pressed to Yamaguchi’s on his bedroom floor. He looked at Iwaizumi, and saw something familiar in the eyes that returned his gaze. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and replied, “Yeah. Yamaguchi is,” he coughed lightly. “He’s kind of like that.” 

Iwaizumi nodded, seemingly prompting him to continue, so he did. “He’s a really good guy. He’s nice, and easy to talk to. And me, well, I’m not exactly the friendliest.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes crinkled kindly in a smile. “You seem kinda prickly, I won’t lie.”

“I think most people would say I’m just a dick.”

Iwaizumi exhaled a soft laugh. “Well. You do seem to yell at Hinata and Kageyama a lot.”

“They’re annoying. I’ve seen you yell at Oikawa.”

“I told you, he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah.” Kei would’ve added that Oikawa did seem like a pompous asshole, most of the time, but he felt odd saying such a harsh thing about an upperclassman. 

“Yamaguchi’s not, though.” Iwaizumi seemed once more to be prompting him.

“No. Yamaguchi is pretty much the only person who doesn’t get on my nerves.”

“He’s special, then.”

“You could say that.” Kei felt his face warming. Iwaizumi either didn’t notice, or pretended not to, because his serious expression didn’t change. He looked directly into Kei’s eyes; it was a little intense, and Kei felt pinned down.

“He’s not going to leave you.” Iwaizumi’s tone was solemn. Kei swallowed.

“How do you know?”

“Same reason I know Oikawa won’t leave me. He loves me.”

Kei blinked. He wasn’t sure he had heard Iwaizumi correctly. “Like, you mean as a friend.”

“Yamaguchi loves you, man. Anyone could tell from how he looks at you.” Iwaizumi said gruffly, but his eyes betrayed how sincere his words were. 

“As a friend…” Kei trailed off. He didn’t know why he felt so unsure.

“Does it even matter? He loves you. And you love him. Don’t worry about the details. Just appreciate what you’ve got.” A corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth quirked up. “Jeez, I gotta punch a wall or something. Never tell anyone we talked about this sappy shit.”

Kei allowed himself to return a small smile. “Yeah.” Iwaizumi reached over and patted his shoulder. He felt simultaneously oddly comforted and off-kilter. Iwaizumi unpaused their match, and they resumed playing in silence, a comfortable one this time.

They finished the match, and then were just about to start a second one when an unfamiliar ringtone began to fill Kei’s ears. Iwaizumi pressed pause and leaned forward to pull his cellphone out of his back pocket, bringing it to his ear. “Mattsun, what’s up?” He paused, listening. “Sure. I’ll be there in a second.”

Iwaizumi pocketed his phone and stood up. “He asked me if I wanted to come play cards with him and Asahi. You wanna come?”

Kei wondered where Yamaguchi was. It’d been a while since he’d last seen him, since his untimely and ungraceful exit to the bathroom. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

He turned to exit, leaving Kei alone with his thoughts. “Yamaguchi loves me,” he repeated to himself under his breath. Something about the words sounded right. Kei didn’t know much about love. He knew that when his mom kissed his forehead, that was love. He knew that the adoration he used to feel for Akiteru, before his lies caught up to him, that was love.

_ Do I love Yamaguchi? _ Kei wondered. He thought about his best friend, wearing that dumb purple shirt, dumb grin on his face and even dumber freckles. He felt a surge of fondness. He remembered the feeling of Yamaguchi’s hair on his fingers as he carefully removed the eyelash from his cheek. 

“I love Yamaguchi.” He tested it out, declaring it to the empty room. Again, it sounded true. He thought about how Iwaizumi had said, “Does it even matter?” when he had asked what kind of love. Kei supposed Iwaizumi was right. If it was true, if Yamaguchi loved him, and if he loved Yamaguchi, then they could just figure it out together. If it was the type of love where they’d be best friends forever, or… something else.

He allowed himself to consider briefly what something else might look like. Yamaguchi’s freckles came to mind. He imagined pressing a kiss to the ones under his right eye, to the soft skin that was there. Maybe Yamaguchi would inhale, maybe he would touch his face in return, all gentle just like everything Yamaguchi did. A tingle slid down his spine, and Kei’s face burned. 

He pushed the thought away, mustering a sense of determination in its place. They would figure it out together.  _ Iwaizumi’s pretty smart,  _ he decided. Someday he’d send him a fruit basket or something. 

Kei rose. He decided to head back to the kitchen, maybe get another drink to clear his mind. His previous cup of whatever hadn’t made him feel anything at all, so he figured another half a cup wouldn’t hurt. He wandered into the kitchen, finding it empty. The punch was mostly gone, so he picked up the whole bowl and poured some of what remained directly into a cup. 

Sipping it slowly, he left the kitchen. There were people dancing in the main room, but he didn’t see Yamaguchi anywhere. 

There was a sliding door presumably leading to a patio at the back of the main room. Kei crossed the dance floor to reach it, and paused before stepping out. He heard Yamaguchi’s voice, and it warmed something in him. 

“Guess I’ll go find Tsukki, then.” He was saying. Without thinking, Kei slid open the door and stepped out. 

“I’m right here.” He stood in front of the entrance, looking down at a circle of his teammates and others, including Oikawa. They were all staring at him. He felt a prickle at the back of his neck. His eyes met Yamaguchi’s, who looked… terrified?

_ What’s wrong _ , Kei immediately thought. He didn’t voice it, though, and simply watched as Yamaguchi gaped like a fish. “ Tsukki! Hi! I have something to tell you.” His voice was too high-pitched, unnatural. Kei drew his shoulder in tensely, and took another step forward.

“Okay?” He knew he sounded annoyed, but he didn’t know how to convey the particular brand of confusion and concern he was currently experiencing. Yamaguchi gulped, and Kei watched his throat constrict. Yamaguchi looked away, down at his feet, and Kei got the sense that something bad was about to happen.

“I have a crush on Bokuto.” Yamaguchi’s words were clipped, as though he feared them. White noise roared in Kei’s ears. He registered what Yamaguchi had said, and a deep chill settled into his bones. He tipped his chin, and in a voice that sounded faraway, like it was coming from someone else’s mouth, replied, “Great. He’s loud and ugly, but I don’t see why I’d care. Hope you find happiness.”

Kei spun on his heel and left the patio. He knew he had been harsh and childish, especially with Bokuto sitting right there, but he didn’t care.  _ Iwaizumi was wrong, wrong wrong _ , rang through his head on repeat. 

Bokuto Koutarou. He was loud, boisterous, energetic, funny, extremely talented… Everything that Kei was not. Clearly, what Yamaguchi wanted was not a blunt, unskilled loser, whether platonically or romantically or whatever the fuck. Clearly, what he wanted was someone completely opposite from Kei. Clearly, he had been an idiot to feel secure, even if it was just for a moment. 

He was sure he looked stupid, speed walking to the same bathroom he’d already hid in once that night. What a complete mess of a party.  _ How pathetic am I _ , he thought viciously. Two breakdowns in the same bathroom in one night. He slumped to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. Kei didn’t cry, and tonight wouldn’t be an exception, but he sure as hell could despair.

Of course it was someone like Bokuto that Yamaguchi wanted to be around. How embarrassing that Kei had ever thought differently. It must be simply because Bokuto didn’t attend Karasuno that Yamaguchi spent any time with Kei at all. He felt sick and ashamed.

He jolted at the sound of a knock on the door. “If that’s fucking Iwaizumi…” he muttered to himself. Kei stood and wrenched open the door, a murderous expression fixed onto his face like armor. 

It melted away the second he processed that it was Yamaguchi standing in front of him.

Yamaguchi’s face was pinched, like he was nervous and afraid. “Tsukki…” He started, lifting a hand as if to touch him, but he stopped halfway in the distance between them. 

“What.” Kei ground out.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi began again. “Can I come in, please?”

Kei paused. He didn’t want Yamaguchi to witness his freak fest, but if he turned him away it’d be all the more obvious just how upset he was, which was even more embarrassing. He opened the door wider, allowing Yamaguchi to enter without saying anything. He pushed past him to perch on the sink, and Kei closed the toilet seat and sat on it.

“Tsukki, I’m sorry.” Yamaguchi’s voice wobbled.

Kei wrinkled his brow.  _ What the fuck.  _ “Sorry for what? I told you, I don’t care.”

Yamaguchi had the gall to look confused. “But… I lied to you.”

It was Kei’s turn to look perplexed. “Lied about what?” 

“About Bokuto! I don’t like him. It was a dare, they dared me to tell you that.”

Kei blinked, the anger rushing out of him all at once. “What.” He felt dazed, like he’d been punched in the face. This was far too much back and forth for one night.

“I know you hate lying, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know why I went along with it, I just, I’ve had some drinks and -” Kei raised his hand, cutting him off.

“You don’t have a crush on Bokuto.”

“No! No, Tsukki. That’s the problem! It was a lie!” 

Kei felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. “Fucking hell.” 

“I know, Tsukki, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you, you hate liars-” Yamaguchi continued his babbling, and Kei once again cut him off.

“Yamaguchi, shut up. I don’t care that you lied, it was a stupid party game. But,” Kei prayed that his voice wouldn’t do something humiliating, like crack. “You really don’t like Bokuto?”

“No, Tsukki. You’re not mad?” Yamaguchi surged forward off of the sink, coming to kneel in front of Kei where he sat on the closed toilet. 

“I’m not mad.” Yamaguchi exhaled, and his breath tickled Kei’s nose. Yamaguchi’s head tipped forward to rest on Kei’s knee. 

“Oh god, Tsukki. I thought you were gonna hate me forever.” He shuddered slightly, and Kei lifted his hand to place it on Yamaguchi’s head, feeling the softness of his hair that had so occupied his thoughts earlier. He carded through it, lifting it and allowing it to fall repeatedly. Yamaguchi sighed, and Kei felt like he might die from the emotional whiplash of tonight.

“Yamaguchi.”

“Yeah, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi lifted his head to make eye contact. His gaze was a little watery, his cheeks flushed and there was a thin sheen of alcohol-related sweat on his forehead. 

Kei loved him fiercely.

He took a deep breath.  _ Might as fucking well _ , he thought. “Do you love me?”

Yamaguchi inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. He said cautiously, “How do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter how.” Kei echoed Iwaizumi. “Do you love me?”

Yamaguchi set his chin on Kei’s knee, staring up at him skeptically, a little anxiously. “I do. You’re my best friend, Tsukki. Of course I love you.”

Kei felt as though someone had smashed a star over top of his head, and that all the little star-fragments were cascading down around him in a tingly, iridescent shower. His breath caught in his throat at Yamaguchi’s tone. He’d said it as though it were obvious. Maybe it was.

He realized he had to say something in return. “Um. Cool.” Yamaguchi giggled, and the sound was a warm washcloth to the back of Kei’s neck. “Do you love me, Tsukki?”

Kei had never, in a million years, imagined that he’d ever one night sit far too close to a boy with freckles in somebody else’s bathroom and feel so confident about using the corniest word in the dictionary. But he opened his mouth anyway, feeling certain and scared all at once, and said, “Yeah. I love you.” 

Yamaguchi beamed. Kei thought he might need sunscreen, if Yamaguchi kept smiling at him like that. Or maybe it was worth the burns, only if it were Yamaguchi giving them to him. 

As though nothing remarkable had transpired, Yamaguchi launched into a description of the night’s events in Kei’s absence, recounting dancing next to Kenma and a particularly rowdy game of Truth or Dare. Kei listened, reveling in the singular attention of his best friend, watching his mouth move, and thought to himself there was no place else he’d rather be.

Well, honestly he’d probably be a little more comfortable at home, or at Yamaguchi’s house, in pajamas and on a bed or something.  But,  _ this was fine too _ , he thought. So he let Yamaguchi keep talking, and when his watch showed that it was past 1 AM, they headed home, arms swinging as they walked down underneath the streetlights. They’d figure it out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty to c for beta :) i love u longtime. lmao sorry for just writing my fave pairings first yall im weak for yams just like tsukki is what can i say. hope everyone likes it <3


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